Fiction

I made it up, it's fiction
There's a moral to what it means
And it's kinda like a photo
Of an old friend you never see
Sitting in abject darkness
Smiling on a wicked plateau
Could hardly make out the carcass
Vultures on the side of the road

I could send a postcard
I could say hello
I could call it as I see it or I could just let it go
Jumped into the river
In the pouring rain ripples seen
A single moment of silence among the evergreens

When leading with contradictions
That barely hide what you mean
Try to ignore the temptation
That reflects all you shouldn't be
The night sky heavily hanging
Finally puts us on an even keel
A black and white movie
Melts into a grayish steel

Some will send you postcards
Some will say hello
Some will make you wear all black
And take a piece of you when they go

Wanting eyes scan the shoreline
All the way to empty peaks
Just the other night you were saying
It all ends quietly