Poetry

Standing a room with no floor.

We built so high.

Up to the sky, sky.

Don’t you dare look down.

You might see you are further away from the top each second you fall.

The milk is on the floor.

The water swirls down the drain.

Juice leaks through the cracks.

A pot boils over.

Exploding soda can.

My life feels like I am one paper towel trying to clean this all up.

Happy endings are unreal.

Fairytales were warnings.

Life is unfair.

Open eyes don’t prevent tragedy.

You usually just see it coming sooner.

Motivation is hard to drive up.

Momentum then loses control.

Emotions fluctuate.

Changes become harder.

Life is unfair.

I lose.

The thought comes quickly.

A rhyme forms in my head.

That would be an excellent poem.

Sitting down,

Pen on paper…

The thought has unformed and I realize

I can not hold onto thoughts that have no meaning.

No going up.

Fight to not go down.

Comfortable in the middle.

Jump into traffic.

Noise pollution goes away.

On the edges.

Never seen.

Sometimes acknowledged.

Rarely heard.

Quietly discussed.

De ja vue all over again.

Even with spelling mistakes.

I did the two main chores.

Home now.

Crawl under the covers.

Block out the light.

Take the time to rest.

Tomorrow may be another hide away day.

Today is definitely one.

The tree was right beside me.

I was sitting in my usual spot.

He had used me before.

A launch pad.

Only this time he left a claw out

and my nose bled like an artery opened.

Thankfully, I was already booked to see my doctor this morning.

The list is long.

Many things to be done.

Some are completed.

Others are waiting.

The last few can be done tomorrow.