This rain is a mist that does not fall
it floats about and above,
at the gentle breeze's call
You could stand amid it
and it would seem
as if you weren't getting wet at all,
as Creatures of the Night cry
and Autumn leaves fall,
as he rises like the waking dead;
alive but feeling nothing at all
Capturing the moment,
so later, if he gets better,
he will remember what he missed
when he was struggling with demons,
arguing reasons to exist
and always coming up short
despite sharp wits and witty retorts
A soul too trusting gets into all sorts situations unintended
leaving torn souls and gaping holes,
leaving many questions open-ended
Fear of others, scorn of self
have left many broken memories
like toys gathering dust on the top shelf...
10-12-10
No comments:
Post a Comment