My head is full of numbers, 
my heart is full of dread 
if I go from black to blue 
all the rhymes 
will come out new. 
Red bleeds to yellow 
and all the numbers are blue
the three comes in threes and
makes the nine incomplete and 
the moon tells the secrets 
I'm not meant to keep 
it's a message of the future 
and the past complete. 

A half yellow star sharp 
pierces my art.
The trinity within my sin 
will always win.
I cannot contain myself 
boxed in 
I see the one's hazy 
in the distance 
and all the fours 
inside the wall stand tall. 
The eighty eight isn't fate 
it's just the pain I can't erase, 
a mistake 
an ever growing internal ache. 

It's the water in my brain that's 
making me insane and I'm 
chasing the rabbit 
through the forest gate cause
it's never too late
to erase 
times mistake. 

©JM.Cole