Seamlessly out of reach,
Coming to grasp,
Then it will leach,
Then to lay down,
Brushing my hand over these blades of grass.
Touching, isn't it?
That he may find her,
With such effortlessness,
When... when will my time come good Sir?
The times that were...
The times that may,
Like a wheel turning endlessly within my brain,
Clouding my path, my dreams,
Clouding all that could be,
Clouding my life, my sight, so you may be a passer by.
Wish for you to be near,
To spend a night in the comfort of your warmth,
Lonely is this dark, ill-illuminated room,
So frightening at times, but comforting amongst others,
Spreading delusion, fright and fear.
To be happy for....
So hard to do,
As my selfishness continues to grow,
And my jealousy ensues,
Not anger, but waves of sad, setting in,
Lost and confused,
Three seems to be a pattern,
Leading back... always,
Leading back to the same...
The same thing, no where to go.
I will stretch out my hand,
Continuing to hope,
But crash again and again,
And stand back up,
To continue the trend...
Wondering, when will it all end?