Chances of probability

 
Something's wrong with this picture;
The frame has been broken,
Countless shards of glass
Are my unwanted tokens.
People, things, and places,
Half-turned faces
With two sides to each demeanor--
As if hiding the pain makes the wound cleaner.
Change of pace, switch the chase;
My feet are blistered, swollen,
I tire of running, my thoughts are sullen.
These beats went on for too long;
Their life was thought to be somewhat strong,
Yet minds turn and people learn-- 
That sometimes situations don't return,
So we separate our streams, 
And stick to our own dreams,
Because times keep ticking 
As we continue wishing
That these nightmares leave
When our eyes are relieved 
From the darkness of broken hearts--
So without complaint, with my hearts restraint, I will restart
h&k
-tatermarie