Nostalgia

Nostalgia
Gray sparkley goo,
isn't that what all our thoughts look like? - gray, but pretty.
slithering down a tunnel,
that once had a bright end,
now is bricked off.

Crimson
Dusk shadows crawl along walls,
golden light claws through brick edges,

You'll never walk through to the other side again.
You'll always see the golden light seep through,
and you'll always remember.