Slumber so selfishly avoids me. A million images flood my mind as my eye lids attempt to rest, horrible images. Terrifying images. Images that exist within my dreams, in that place reserved for peace.
Why do you haunt me, dear mind? Are we not friends? Do we not share the same existence, do I not feed you wonderfully beautiful dishes?
I remember a time when sunlight
felt warm, and blue skies filled more than just the expanse above me. But now I crave the warmth I can not find, I search for blue and settle for gray. Will I return to fields of flowers and clouds that don't drown me? Will the fog lift again and allow the dew to sparkle?
You break out of the prison I built repeatedly, allowing negativity and sadness to affect those around me. But remember that at first it was a mansion before it decayed, it was a garden before it wilted. It was a forest before it was burned down. It was home before it was hell, this mind of mine.
Can I rebuild, replant, re grow alone? Or are my fields more than I can tend to?
YOU ARE READING
Incongruity
PoetryThis is where I will put my poems about my experiences. I just want somewhere to store them. If they resonate with someone, then I'm glad to have at least been a voice of familiarity in a world that feels so full of solidarity. Also I usually only w...
