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Poem

I'm not sure what it is, it's like that time of the year I'm grumpy a bit moody and every
thing seems unclear,
all year long I fill like I'm on top of the world and I could care less about what others
have to say I'm happy and humbled and I welcome every day,
now months away from my favorite time of the year I fill angry unwilling to be my self  I
don't smile I mumble with a grin and sneer,
nothings has changed but I fill some thing is missing, I still have the love of a woman
with the passion that still takes me away,
my struggles are the same, my burden I know it's still part of the game but yet the cloud
still lingers,
listing to Elton John Billy Joel feeds my heart and dances with my soul, but I don't want
to hear those sounds,
the screaming sounds of 80's rock AC/DC Iron Maiden Judas Priest feed the filling inside 
verses like we will rock you, killers, screaming for vengeance go with the look on my face,
even the confusion of Pink Floyd is there any body out there, the dark sounds of Don
Henley the garden of Ala to not just listen but fill the words from those singers,
even Adam Duritz and the counting crows time and time again I can't please myself no one
knows how I fill how I just fill like falling to the ground,
I am the same person who wrote You, I still fill it I still am the one who raise and falls
in life but inside some thing changed I fill almost out of place,
restless unwilling to be like I shouldn't be happy right now, my son will be going off to
collage to start his life,
my girl still as smart as any 16 year old in a 12 years old body and my wife still as
beautiful  as a So. California sun set,
yet I'm wallowing in the spring time like it was cold and raining with gray ski's and
surrounded by wet pavement,
like a knife...
I'm filled with regret...
my enslavement.

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