I feel it slipping—
Like sand through fingers
On the beach in my soul
Where the tide rages
And birds cannot find
Any food to eat
Because all that was planted
Is rotten
And all that was found
Was forgotten.
I feel it falling—
Like a man from the roof
Of his damnable house
When he feels he cannot
Take it anymore;
Where the birds sing their
Strangled songs
And sinners try to
Right their wrongs.
I feel it sliding—
Like an oil slick
On a gravel road
In the forests of my mind
Where children hide
Their broken smiles,
And jacks and jills
Roll down the hills
And secrets slide
From lips so wide
To ears so near they hear it clear.
I feel it breaking—
Like the ***** windows
In that damnable house
With finger prints
And drawings traced
By finger tips
Upon the panes of glass
Which shutter in the
Windy night
And whisper that it’s
All alright.
I feel it fading—
Like a fire waning
In the night
Beneath the stars
That burn so bright
And in the humid
Summer air
I know that it’s too late
To care;
But I feel it breaking
Snapping, shaking…
My sanity slipping from my grasp
Is getting way too hard to clasp.
It’s gone.
Feb 27, 2014
Feb 27, 2014 at 12:47 AM UTC
I feel it slipping—
Like sand through fingers
On the beach in my soul
Where the tide rages
And birds cannot find
Any food to eat
Because all that was planted
Is rotten
And all that was found
Was forgotten.
I feel it falling—
Like a man from the roof
Of his damnable house
When he feels he cannot
Take it anymore;
Where the birds sing their
Strangled songs
And sinners try to
Right their wrongs.
I feel it sliding—
Like an oil slick
On a gravel road
In the forests of my mind
Where children hide
Their broken smiles,
And jacks and jills
Roll down the hills
And secrets slide
From lips so wide
To ears so near they hear it clear.
I feel it breaking—
Like the ***** windows
In that damnable house
With finger prints
And drawings traced
By finger tips
Upon the panes of glass
Which shutter in the
Windy night
And whisper that it’s
All alright.
I feel it fading—
Like a fire waning
In the night
Beneath the stars
That burn so bright
And in the humid
Summer air
I know that it’s too late
To care;
But I feel it breaking
Snapping, shaking…
My sanity slipping from my grasp
Is getting way too hard to clasp.
It’s gone.
