I try. I wait. I lie
So long, the hours slap
Me in the face, about the head
And I just let them.
I welcome them.
I feel them pass, and become
The days that won’t let me
Sleep.
They punish me.
I cry. I hate. I die.
Or hope to, or not.
I wish I knew the answers here
But there are none.
There are no questions either
And that is the shame of it all
In a nutshell
A plain old nutshell
That crumbles in my hand.
I sigh. I mate. I fly
In air made of
Liquid, made of stones and
Nothingness.
I breathe it, I taste it,
But I cannot believe it.
Why should it, when it
Pretends I don’t exist?
Do I? Exist?
I try. I wait. I lie.
©Lisamarie Lamb 2011
No comments:
Post a Comment