So much color and
So little light
The trees are jewels
Veiled by the sky

The power to manipulate your surroundings,
Talking animals and non-human entities,
To see your deceased loved ones,
Trapped in complete darkness,
New faces appearing at sight,
A dream within a dream,
Omens of the future,
To live or to die.

and there they sat
each passerby
with vivid lives
the urge to cry

magnificent words
on some of their tongues
and a song to sing
in each of their lungs

the hand they bear
some never know
and I think we
must learn to grow

Like many things in life,
Problems occur.
Problems which we are
Meant to learn from.

Like many things in life,
Difficulties arise.
Difficulties that we can
All overcome together.


For better or for worse
the latter is more common,
for worse happens way too often,
the problems we face don't fade.

We live in this prison called life
difficulties arise as we slowly walk
to our demise,we fill our minds
that there are ways we can escape.


The hardships of life
Are only a small part of the
Vivid painting that is life.
We are the complete image.

Though we may have tears,
Rips, piercings, and smudges,
We are still full of wonder and
Our minds are full of light.


**We embrace the order
we border on uniformity
awfully we are digging ourselves
in shelves of debt and depression.

Life is a vivid painting,
staining the realisation that death,
that the last breath taken
and the needless pain is imminent.

Thank you for visiting my memory,
thank you for just dropping by,
replaying that day -
yet again,
repeating in vivid technicolor,
the last long an sad goodbye,
I don't have a single tear though,
as none are left for me to cry,

Predictable,
like a broken record,
how, when an mostly why,

My bedsheets are my torture,
I smell you - an I feel you too,
I twist and turn just ALL night long,
so terrible an so sadly very true,

Well I guess I'll never know those answers,
but if you're bad memories they never fade,
if you never let me let you go,
if my debt is never really ever paid,
if at the alter,
if I am always, always laid,
I can't do that-

Just please stop the technicolor,
dream parade,

Becuz if you never stop haunting my sleep,
you know baby I am not sheep,

I may never get any,

Because I will never be able,
to find real love again,

I'll be much too busy -
out howling -
and baying at the stupid, stupid moon.

Ma Cherie © 2017