It's okay to watch it all go downhill. It's beautiful in motion stand still
But when it all dissolves, what else will be there to watch, to see, to want to fix beyond repair?

It's magnificent when it is seen breaking.
A collage of memories and pictures, all dissipating.
But one day they will turn into the wood, into the fire, into the ashes of despair.

What else is there for it cannot bloom,
A pheonix can be born, but none too soon
For this is pain and this is strife and all this is a mixture of a bittersweet life.

Broken, yes, and fragile and strange.
Distant and miniscule, desired, deranged
But all a part of what was needed to live, what was needed to survive.