sophocles_hero

He takes a box of crayons and draws with his hands
A nightmare
Realized with wax and cut paper
Glued to a tin
He keeps his keepsakes in
Buttons from jackets too worn out to wear
And a lock of blonde hair
He was just a child back then
And the dreams never wore thin
But now look at the mess he is in
Just like the worn down clothes
Strands of his body fading
His minds all full of holes and static refrain
The memories translucent and dimming
He can't recall much if anything
So drink it down deep he thinks
Take the nightmare by its clawing hands
And write it down again
And raise it high
For everyone to see
Maybe they will remember all the things
That are missing and lost to him
Replace them and keep the story breathing
If only for a time