Most of the people in my story
Have disappeared
into a far away mist
There are only a few I can say
I genuinely miss.
One in particular
That I wouldn't if I could
Because altho paradise has faded
She is the thing which made paradise good.

Decades have passed and I still
                                 drag my cross
                                   Thru the quicksand
Dreaming of when it was held high
                                  in the clear sky
By Wendy Ann

Too many people invited into our life
                           Took away what life is
Too many people hearing too many secrets
To socialise with
Too many displays of vulnerabilities
(Or is that too many self-protecting excuses?)

Most of my life I've pretended to accept things
\but memories hold too many tombs
                                  Of relationships blending over
                                     To loss of dreams.

I'll never return to Utopia
However, I experienced it so intimately
I can rotate fiction to fact
But I wouldn't believe that
If a miserable monument of pain
Sold me it.