Floating Above Myself

Dissociated Looking around Can’t connect the dots to who or what I was before My feet have been stained by a hundred strains of grass Seen and known outside the reach of this valley Years of travel has worn my soles Worn my soul Chipped away the pictures I painted of the world I wanted A cold world with a bitter tongue The broken helping the broken because the fixers have all gone home Your story is but a paragraph in a book of shattered hearts A novel of shattered dreams Scattered on the streets in puddles of liquid screams Lines of hungry bellies waiting to make it another day I wish we could feed on our fear Then we would all eat like kings Our souls are etched on the walls of the buildings in which we dwell A reminder to those that follow Pain was nurtured here