I am closed.
The ache is real
I long to be loved,
But it's loneliness I feel
The trumpet is sad.
The trumpeter dead.
Melancholia;
Blue tinted sadness and dread
My heart is heavy:
Aching, lonely, cold
Openness is fear
Laced with winks of old.
Is this my making?
I'm stuck...fully exposed.
I can't find the key.
I am closed.
Wednesday, November 21, 2018
When?
When is enough enough?
When do I discover the cause?
When is the truth laid bare?
When does the lying take a pause?
When will these questions stop?
When will the answers come?
When do I discover my worth?
When am I enough, just because?
When will mirth fill the void?
When will sadness seek less applause?
When will my anger eat me alive?
When will I forgive, find freedom?
When?
When?
When?
Wednesday, November 14, 2018
Wasted
Wasted
A melancholy wake,
I fought to hold on.
Yet still, it slipped away.
The sun set.
The colors faded.
Youth disappeared.
I hesitated.
Life, by time, is but a day.
A moment to breathe,
A second to play.
I wasted away the day today
Listless, gripping,
Waiting, longing
My moment, my moment, slipped away
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