Some days I wish for rain. Wish for it to wash something from my soul that I cannot find, that I cannot exorcise on my own. I feel a dragging, a sadness so deep that the hopeless burns through my marrow.
The sun, so optimistic,
casting honey on my shoulders.
My mind thankful, but yearning
empathy from the clouds.
Withered from the light,
Standing raw and revealed.
The mosquito song harrows.
You are but a stranger to me.
You are nothing that helps me to grow.
You are a resist
you are sand paper
Blocking me from my happiness,
from my lifes simplicity.
Causing me to walk with shield and empty sheath
you are invisible...
and I am clean of you
Sun-glazed and powdered
ready to go on.
Today a new story
where you were never written.
No comments:
Post a Comment