So tired of trying
To make sense of this
When did I become
So cynical
So unable to believe
That anything good
Can be mine?
Instead I let go,
Free fall to see
How far I can drop
Before I hit the
Ground screaming.
Lies are the language
Of choice
Where everyone promises
They’ll be there for you
Love you, care….
“If you need me call”
Lies that sound enough
Like truth that every
Once in a while
You believe.
Every once in a while
You allow yourself
To believe that you’re
Not alone.
But in the end it’s just
You and the mirror
And you face it like a
Convict
Eyes down, guilt drawn
In Technicolor
Over your skin
Begging and pleading
For one more shot
Gun drawn,
One in the chamber
Knowing already that
Chances are like wishes
And if wishes were ponies
We’d all be riding
In the carnival of dreams.
©Donna J. P. Riley
Note: This was written a long long time ago, and does not have anything to do with how I've been feeling lately, even though it may look that way. For me, poetry is such an emotional expression of the written word that it most often comes out as rather dark, almost frightening, even to me. The times when I'm the most depressed, poetry comes easily, almost effortlessly, but I'm a rather odd bird and those feelings come and go like the wind, thankfully!
I'm still struggling to get out of this funk, but thanks to my friends here, for all the wonderful comments and encouragement, I'm doing okay and hopefully will be back to my normal hopefully amusing self before you know it!
Hope you all have a wonderful night and know that I adore you all! <3
