I come prepared to bare bad news
to incite myself into a state of joy
and induce the sadness into glee
for no one knows my nightmares like me.
Awake I lay in a bed so cold
with pillows lining where you once lay
to keep me from rolling off
and hitting myself atop my head.
Is it just me? Or are there more
who wish the world would stop and go
that yesterday could be relived
redone, re-spoke, reposed.
I grow so tired of the memories
but it's the only thing that is left
only thing I have to share
only bit's of life I care to remember.
Short stories, poems, among other play things. A constant work in progress. Forever changing.
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