she was the sun
hidden
behind the clouds
waiting
for her time to
shine

My mind,
constantly drifting away,
to the past,
or far away to the future.
I found myself,
always,
drowning in the fantasy
or delusion
I don't live in the present.
My body does,
but my soul not.
"I" don't exist.

Sweet little child
Your laying on a cloud
It rains endlessly

You can't come off it
Sinking through it
You pray

Their darkness thunders
Turns your heart to blunders
Am I the bad one?

You fall asleep
Falling as you weep
You're in a puddle

Cold and broken
Always misspoken
Is this better ?

Never been perfect
But you always work it
Until they throw dirt

And you lie in your puddle
Seeing your struggle
You feel disgraceful

Always so sorry
Wishing my puddle
To be an endless ocean

.
Pain should be written beautifully,
achingly displayed upon a page.


© Pagan Paul (20/06/19)