.
In a garden fair with flowers
is where she whiles away her hours.
Especially in the months of Spring,
gently rocking upon her mood swing.

Flying high and dipping low
she lets her emotions freely flow.
Not caring what the feelings bring,
gently rocking upon her mood swing.

Hanging beneath an apple tree
a virginal symbol of her purity.
Listening quiet to the songbirds sing,
gently rocking upon her mood swing.


© Pagan Paul (25/09/17)

Another glass of whisky, and I'm staring at the door
Asking myself questions, I've never asked before
Because now, I know, that it's okay
To talk about what's in my head
Now I know its normal
To sometimes wish I were dead
I'm writing like I'm running
Out of time, or away
Often, I'm doing both, on any given day
I've pledged to live a life of pleasure
Perhaps I'm out of touch with reality
Maybe, I'm just accepting, my own grim, mortality
I thought that I was golden
I thought the sun was out
Maybe it's just mood swings
Or a mood merry go round

When the numbness sets in
And my fingers run cold
I find who I once was
There at the bottom
Clutching what’s left
Of the warmth that I held
Clear brown eyes
Pleading
Begging
Hoping
To feel the sun's warmth
Again

My mood changes,
like a light switch.

One minute I'm bright,
the next I'm dark.

One minute I'm dim,
the next I'm blinding.

One minute I'm blind,
the next I cut through the lies.

One minute I'm clear,
the next I'm fog.

One minute I'm colorful,
the next I'm monotone.

Catch me when I'm on,
because when I'm off I'm gone.

But then again, is there a difference between the two?