When I was a boy.
I always stared at the bright blue moon.
And what followed were clouds.
Simply but yet elegant.
This one looked like an elephant.
Mom told me it was water.
Made up of vapers.
Captured and forever stuck.
I wanted to take them.
I wanted to ride a cloud
Be far off within the bright blue sky.
I wish it were true.
But I just ended up making them though with fools.
Making clouds on a daily basis.
With friends down under a basement.
Now I sit here.
Smoking.
Looking and hoping
I can chase this cloud.
YOU ARE READING
The diary of a fiend
Poetry100+ poems that depict the intentions, dreams, and nightmares of a young writer and his battles to control his demons, vises, and life
