some days are spent writing poetry
and others are a sum of passed hours
that you wished you could remember what words were for
and the person you used to be before
the fear set in
before you learned how to spell disappointment
some times i lay in the field
and try to replay those nameless songs
we all sang during childhood
some times i can hear a few lines
there is a tune i learned only a year ago
that has you in every chord
i think i listen to it too often
maybe not often enough
decisions look like a candle's flame
and i don't know how to still a subject
last tuesday i might have felt at peace
but then i thought i saw another piece of the puzzle
so i started to rescramble the letters
you said that i look brighter lately
but you haven't seen me in days
i'm having trouble keeping my bulbs clean
i'm having trouble seeing where this is going
i can hear you in that silly piano theme
saying something like 'you never really have to worry
you only have to watch'
some days i like to see the rainstorms
but some of the time the wind is too loud
some days i think i can only be myself sometimes
but you never thought that was true