Ezekiel Grey (stopper_death) wrote,
Ezekiel Grey

  • Mood:

Private Entry

Poetry is the bane of my existence. However, Professor Flitwick is hovering over me, so I best finish.

I walked through the halls today.
The torches were flickering in the corners,
students were making their way to their next class.
I stood there and wondered
if time had shifted again--
wondered if I were home.

I blinked, and the faces were all different;
I was still lost.

Sometimes I feel like time is an ocean.
Everything is different, in its way--
but I remain the same,
and I can't see beyond the waves.
Comments for this post were disabled by the author