Volume low,
All the way to zero.
Whiplash of emotions,
Stuck and non-stop.

Gazing and capturing,
The time travel;
Moving forward,
Each passing moment.

Train of thoughts,
Loud as a siren.
Yet a statue
Is the mask.

The volume doesn't matters,
Nor do the swings,
Don't bother;
It's just a statue anyways.

~☆~✧~✧~☆~
Inside and out.
Anna