There's twilight's child

calling,

baby,

He whispers.

Innocence was never as perfect as this.

Here's momentary glory

surrounding you,

a tide

turning inside,

making you want to rip your guts inside out.

There's nothing but what there was.

Nothing changes,

nothing should.

Why should it?

We crash.

We all crash, we all fall.

Some of us break out backs, some of us

learn how to land

feline-esque.