LukeMorrison

Wishing well of dreams

 Needless to say,

I have been back there again.

The wishing well of dreams 

has made my mind rot.

 

The consequences of before

seem only too near

and I focus my lust

on nothing but games.

 

My brother has kept,

my wife told her tales.

I have yet to find 

myself the right transport.

 

I'm stuck like a child

who has climbed too high;

too fearful to move

because of the pain.

 

Like a beaten dog

I forget who I am,

with memories stinging

my eyes with no mercy.

And kicking my happiness 

away like a stone.

And slicing my feelings

right down to the bone.

And burning my love

until I'm finally shown

that I hate that my life is not as good as I remember.

But still with my penny I return to create another.

Comments1

  • Goldfinch60

    Good emotive write.



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