In the dimness of my bedroom
Morning creeps across the floor
Hoping it can wake me early,
Planning to trap me one more time
In the dream world that I live in.

The room is cold, but I am warm
Under the goose down of my duvet,
Striving to paint over dreams
That left me naked and ashamed.

Dreams that ever play in reruns
Of my failures and shortcomings,
Constantly reminding me that I
Am not the person I profess to be.

That all the good deeds that I do
Can not erase the darkness in my soul
That I refuse to recognize
Or let escape the cell I’ve trapped it in.

Oftentimes the morning Sun
Will aid me in escaping
From those dreams into the life
I work so hard to purchase

With effort and the exercise
Of what I’ve learned the hard way,
In hopes that on a distant day
I’ll be who people think I am
And I can dream of butterflies.
ljm

The feast is over
All the guests have left the table
I hung around until the very end
But never got invited
Looks like I’ll have to make my dinner
From the crumbs.

The party’s ending
The orchestra has packed it’s violins
I kept the beat and wore the smile
But no one signed my card
And I suppose I’ll have to hum the tune
And dance alone.
                                  ljm

Gaping, sponge-filled well of need
Proboscis longer than eternity
You’ve ****** the plumpness from my soul
And left a wrinkled, withered husk
Yet still you cry you’re thirsty.
                         ljm

Diana is spinning in her grave
To see Camilla crowned as Queen.
The living proof that if you ****
Yourself in the highest places
There is a chance you’ll wear a crown.

And if you put on Goodie’s 2 Shoes
You still cannot disguise the dirt
You wallowed in to win the prize
That rightfully belonged to Di.
ljm

Like a newborn sparrow in a tall tree nest
You hunker down with your beak wide open
Chirping for a worm.
But you’ve broken my wings so many times
I can no longer fly
And I flop helplessly amongst the branches
Watching as we starve.
                   ljm

I went to the squantum faire.
A handsome lad was there.
He admired my raven hair
And seemed to really care
So I began to share
More than I’d ever dare

He seemed like someone rare
My excitement hard to bear
We made a fulsome pair
Alas he was just a snare.

Today I sit and glare
And sometimes even swear
That I’d been made a mare
And Motley’s clothes must wear.
ljm

I’m old and fat
And that is that
No saving grace
For my poor face
The past is gone
I must live on
And walk this road
With aging’s load
But I recall
When I was all
I’d hoped to be-
An answered plea
I was the best
Of all the rest
I reveled on
Then all was gone
But I’m still here
With mind yet clear
The years roll past
Each one more fast
But as they fly
I never sigh
I’ve had my fun
And now it’s done.
        ljm