oh how it reeks of memory -
a gulp of air
                   that i swallow in
                   the croaking of an old, stained swing
                                                       and how it sways defyingly
                                                  no, i will not have mercy because not this time -
                                                   not this time have i swayed and swung
                                                   not this time have the winds sung
                                                 with me
                 but -
 here i lend a ear
to hear
that the breeze does carry my song still -
and the subtle sound of broken faith
and the hint of a prayer from Fate
                                                 so i turn my back
                                                 - and  i walk away