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Poem

Plain Pain.

There's a heavy pain on top of my joy,
Little room nails scratching my whole,
All of me helpless and hopeless,
The goal was joy now in the 
Goal mouth there's sore,
Necessity to comprehend the whole thing 
Is no more appealing to my present,
How old is I to be fooled?
How long from now will it take to appeal to be true?
Yesterday I wasn't perfect but real in the mud 
Now I appear to be but fake in the cart,
Who is fooling who I wonder 
Who else shall say it louder than I?
The present seem to be non kind 
And my kind seem to be non present,
Who is I to follow with joy 
When there is none in me in secret?
Who is I to laugh to the joke of reality 
When they are not at all?
Who is I to judge human nature with an eye
That see far closer than nowhere?
There's a walk for me to take 
I realised there's a lot at stake,
Alone with I,me and me 
Releasing each drop for joy to be found 
Never the less there's none to be for I to smile.

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