Woke up this morning
Trying hard to hide my melancholy
I joined you for breakfast
And we continued our lie
Every day it is similar
You are cheery
And so am I
Our terrible lie
Can you imagine a time
When we awoke and did not speak
Realizing our moods would cause tension
Tension caused by too little life?
I do wish sometimes
As I leave for work sullenly
Dreading the day already
Weeping far within
The lie, terrible and unending
Would cease to be
And I would know the real you
And you the real me
But, the lie drags on for now
For it is not written in the stars
And perhaps it will never be
I am my own companion
The dreaded truth
Gathered in a lifetime
Sentenced for an eternity
Realized too late
by Wikket
I Have this Garden of Poems
at first and then carried away with my greenthumb i planted everything trees and more trees and shrubs and bamboos and vines and hanging plants almost everything and so the blooming flowers died and the grasses diminishing like some hair of this baldness but nothing is lost in this garden of poems the birds came and built their nests some are still coming every morning and then the chirping begins |
The Lie
Subscribe to:
Post Comments (Atom)
No comments:
Post a Comment