Bog
Knowing how to feel, what more is there to know?
Knowing how to entertain
What must I do to ascertain the feeble heart?
Standing at the precipice
How I hate this state of confusion I’m in
Unraveling from every seam
I become the theme we all seem to dream
Tasting the salty tear running down my cheek
I toss a stone into the creek
I refuse to blink
To participate in this oblique charade
Counting sheep, singing folksy folk songs
Hoping, always hoping to find the one I was supposed to meet
Nothing is for certain, nothing is set in stone
I am one of many in search of meaning
Daydreaming, while the world stands screaming
Beseeching a God no one knows
I know the feeling of frustration, of reckless abandon
Yet nothing is as sweet as sweet release
The shower’s running, the t.v.’s glowing
Sending letters without purpose
Writing thoughts with little meaning
Sometimes I find myself locked within a dream
Questioning: Am I awake? or I'm I dreaming?
Hopefully I’ll start to see things clearly
Through crystal eyes.
Copyright © Skyy Allen | Year Posted 2010
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