Why?
why is their a trapdoor,
that lurks beneath my thoughts.
why?
is there a turmoil
that taunts my desperate hurts
and the exagerrations
in all I think and hide
the petty insinuations
of my troubled mind.
I am twisting,
I am turning,
I am running
and returning
confused and yet certain,
certain and then blind.
this day had so much sunshine
and I skipped through daylight hours,
yet now in the evening
I'm swapping smiles for frowns.
why?
why is there no answer,
just a drawer filled full of pills
that medicate my madness
and quieten my ills.
2 Comments:
It's interesting, Billy... when I look at this poem graphically, I see a keyhole. A way out, even when things seem bleak?
That's really weird isn't it?
The day just seemed to lurch from happy and smiling to rather drab and grey. That says a lot about me as a person. Sometimes manic, sometimes not.
Thanks for visiting Erin. I think, at this point, because I ignored the blog for so long, I will have to wait before my visual gates are being knocked on!!
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