Me And My Lamp

The glass has shattered,
and the wind is blowing in. 
So why are we fretting the thought of breathing.
The water you drink has seen more days then you've seen words,
they know,
everything.
The sun will not shut our story and say, "The end.",
and Mars will not wave from your dirty windowsill for the last time.
But It wouldn't matter if they did, 
I wouldn't have the patience for it anyways.
I am but a hummingbird,
with my wings always moving just a bit too fast, 
for the world to comprehend. 
Me with my mumbles,
and whispers,
and a side long glance at your legs. 
I am only here to paint a picture in ice,
of the things you are ruining,
as are my fellow writers who sit on a stool and dream big dreams,
ones that are filled with leprechauns and talking ponies.
Me and my lamp,
are watching you pulling out of your driveway for the last time.
Me and my lamp,
are breathing in the dust so you won't have to.
Me and my lamp will document it all.
As you watch safely from the sidelines,
so goodbye,
to all.