No Rest for the Vivid
No rest for the Vivid
The ones drowning in dreams
The ones weaving skies out of sorrowful screams
The ones wringing new colors out of old rusty blood
The ones stepping up above the world’s violent flood
The ones shaping stars out of blue icy tears
The ones chewing and spitting out everyone’s fears
The conquerors, the rebels, the ones crossing the line
Somehow standing untouched by the passage of time
Not just the heroes of stories
But the authors too
The ones lost in the crowd
Between many and few.