Happy heaven, maybe.
The tribulations pouring
down a calmer path,
rather than
monsoon, tidal wave, wretched storms
that swept me out to sea, shining sea.
A sea of drowning dreams.
A gentler tide, a greener pasture.
A safer house in which to hide.
Hide-away hills.
Hide-away home.
A happy heaven, maybe.
Until I catch a shadow in my eye,
and shiver down the walls again,
to walk the barren path
of subdued doom.
A hush and a quiet.
Give me happy heaven, maybe,
until roots of failed promises
choke up from the graves again.
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