waiting

starting off a slow dance,
echoes put pen to the paper
wanting something like they have
because they never started this at all
wanting something they've wanted
because of the never ending dance
living on in reality, the actuality
the changes and suppositions
of reality the difference and changes
stolen from them for it all because they had
no chance
taken away and sold any day, the causes could be in the black
and echoing back, the fragments of bleakness untold
story is bold, and echoing on, living inwards living towards
escape plan in in the doctrine, newer messages of time so bold
finding what's new, what's necessary to be language lived lividly
needing old stories language meant and left for no man
forgotten in old as patterns are bold we've always been told
to suck it up, continue and forget all that, to tell a new story