I find feelings are like matter.
Happy liquids bind to make sad ice.
A world's weight of ice is inclined to unwind
By unleashing great hailstorms in the mind.
Storms create rust that makes my gears grind.
My machines bust leaving golden ideas unmined.
Now I must use old methods to get silver ones refined.
Ideas gather dust when goals are not clearly defined.
They say happiness is a state of mind.
My mind is in a state of impatience.
Sadness clings to bring a bell with an odd chime
Signaling all the things I have missed.
So I don't have the time to to find one rhyme
To get behind because my rhymes are warning
Signs of rising tides and changing times.