Memories float freely like pollen
trying to impregnate forgotten blooms
and I'm stuck on a path between gardens
trying to choose between freedom and you.



...and lying beneath it all,
I view each one;
bright daggers lancing my eyes
with visions of both yesterday and tomorrow,
while two smaller sets of footprints
trod daily upon my soul.
Twin blazing beacons that bring a warmth
that never seems to fully conquer
the wandering mind of the insane...

I'm broken by secret shame
as I return to my attempts to escape...

the very trap I built for myself.




A million bright daisies are screaming,
echoing this sweet torment of pain...
Could somehow that million be silenced
if I decided to cut off the rain?

If you [Log In] as a member you can discuss this work with others