There was a child inside of me once.
I lost him between my dreams and my days.
The tyre that hangs from the trees still swings;
Only empty now, the only rider, the breeze.
Melancholy voiced she sighs and sings.
As though the sense of loss to underpin.
I opened my heart to laughter once.
Demons slipped in and drank my soul.
My laughter stopped, my childhood died.
I smile though, hiding the sadness deep within.
My footsteps echo, a hollow stride.
I walk on with nowhere left to go.
I drank from a stream beside the road.
A sign said, “Don’t ! I won’t approve!”
But I’d given up caring, I drank in deep.
The water swirled inside my head.
Forgotten memories no longer pained my keep.
From my eyes rancid tears no longer bled.
I woke to find the world the same.
And nothing inside of me had changed.
I found the swing and climbed astride.
Moving between worlds too and fro,
In some memories I can try to hide,
Until it is time for me to go.
This is a poem describing how the discordant cacophany that is my life has become a matter of marking time. I’m looking forward to an eternal rest beat. (I.e. I’m looking forward to being dead and not living with all this pain anymore). The only bright aspect of my personal sphere are my cats. They’re the reason I’m still alive. I’m not looking forward to mourning them, as I must. Life is suffering.