When you can't reach the stars at the top of the stairs.
When your eyes become blinded in your darkened domain.
All you find is storm, upon storm.
Barrage balloons and a million blue moons ,none that I can find, pray someone remind me that life's really good.
I find no interest but, I know that I should.
When lost moments are gone and you can't see the sky, the nails on your fingers scratch hard, you're wanting to cry,but your tears are all gone, stolen by one, who says that you're stupid.
Tears came back, they're chasing the tracks of the scratches of nails, where snails become slugs, salt hating bugs.
Disintegrate into puddles of slush.
Reminiscent tears, begin more to gush as they flush out bad feelings of battling with demons.
Want more soft furnishings to cushion my head, I fight onwards and upwards, wish I was dead.
I doesn't always follow, as sometimes I'm mellow, tinged with spots of cowardly yellow.
The bus passed the stop and I just can't step off.
The world keeps on turning, somewhere a sparks still burning.
Never know why, I just need a good cry.
I want a good sob.
I know that I do.
My world is beaten black shades of blue.
I sit in the corner and rock like the clock on the shelf, with the crocodile tears, just a big fish out of water, they call me a flounder.
A bit of a chicken, scratching the farmyard.
Guess what ladies and gentlemen the poet's a ******.
Not too hard to work out I guess, yep, everyone knows that the poet's a mess.
Large black dog, swirls round my head, still wish I was dead, born a coward always will be, stay in bed, take some proper medication..no not suicidal, some delicious anti-d's.
All shall pass, soon I shall be me again,
Honestly.
(c) Livvi