I don't know what happened

I connect with concepts because people haven't learned to admit their wrongs yet. Songs wept before they were played and people pry at problems they can't relay. I don't want to seperate from this race but it's fate when everyday plays the same and I can't make any change. I remember what it was like to be eager and satisfied with the concept of the night. Dark and ominous but strangely bright where all the colours fluttered alike out of mind but forever imbedded in sight. Those were the times when we felt in greys and whites. And that's what it's like balancing on the edge of this knife. Either side might be begging for fractions but the tip fractured passion and now I don't know what happened.