Pen to the Paper

With my pen to the paper,
I let my thoughts fly,
Attempting to create,
I know not what,
Or why,
Still my heart,
It is beating,
At me to try,
To get my feelings on paper,
To keep up this disguise.

My feet are too tired,
To do much more than stop,
So now I’m stuck in this world,
With a bong and a clock,
A trail,
I seem to have lost,
All the people that followed,
Me to just talk.

When you live in the haze,
That became my every day,
You tend to throw things away,
To escape from the shame,
A bridge is just kindling,
And a friendship a bridge,
I needed a fire,
To wake me from this shit.

A queen,
A woman of substance,
I’m a substance abuser,
So this,
It is perfect,
I had no more options,
On this island of Conflict,
Struck my last match,
As she reached out and grabbed my wrist.

For a moment,
Time froze,
Thoughts raced and crashed,
Into those,
Misguided dreams from,
So long ago,
I don’t know,
If I should gamble,
With my heart,
It’s still in shambles,
But God,
Those eyes,
That smile,
They make me ramble,
That in itself,
Has me in shackles,
Led by example,
Into a cave,
If you will,
A kind of maze,
Labyrinth where I saw the beauty,
In your ways,
A place I thought was lost,
I’d stay for days.

I sigh,
Relieved at the thought of you,
And I,
But this is exactly why,
I’ve tried,
To hide,
All that wouldn’t break,
Or die,
I throw too much,
Then my heart,
It wonders why,
It’s still alone,
After oh,
So many tries,
I joust with a laugh,
A façade of white lies,
And smile away,
Rotting inside.


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About brettspadaro

Attempting to complete a business degree in southern California. Dream big, act rationally. Go for what you believe in.

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