Crumbling rust and rain,

The stains reveal the years to me.

No fears come close to entropy.

The slowest choking of beauty.



So metaphorical the paint,

And tearing paper cries.

Such wettened eyes revealing

What comes to everyone in time.



The cracking edges rushing in,

To show the bone behind the soul,

Control is far beyond all reach,

I seek an answer that's not