Dug In The Sand

poetry

It seems like we’re lost, maybe it’s political,
maybe I’m on the wrong side of failing to not be typical.
What would you do they say to you or I,
dancing on the trapeze of a now lonely mind?

If that’s just the start, if that’s just the beginning,
on the wrong side or right one to a better ending.
And she says goodbye for a final time; a signature now to define,
I’d wonder what’s the use to live this life on such a line?

Write the words just so darling, but in a castle made of irony,
it seems I’ve lost my way to write myself out of atrophy.
What’s the use in breathing, when the words just choke the air,
as heavy thoughts right off the lips, for miseries aren’t that rare.

Maybe when it’s over, or when this heart can be refined,
I’ll forget what felt like a thousand years that made up both our minds.
It’ll takes some time to now forget, so please do understand,
yet here I am, and there you aren’t, trapped in another lost castle made of sand.

Leave a Reply

Your email address will not be published. Required fields are marked *