False reality

False reality


Lying in my bed,
thirty angels in the room,
lone dream catcher,
filled with loneliness and gloom.
A picture that portrays anger,
feels like a solitary tomb.
What it lacks is laughter,
and secrets in the night.
Mementos of love,
such a pathetic sight.
Yet it is the place,
that is all my own,
security and safety,
in someone else’s home.
I cannot dream of tomorrow,
it is too far away.
Set my sights on borrowed,
and live another day.
Bare my soul in poetry,
no one will ever read.
So how can anyone find me,
and give me what I need?
My focus is on other’s,
don’t know another way.
They just smile and hope,
I’ll finally seize the day,
and go in another direction,
but I am so afraid.
Don’t want to embrace silence,
watch me slowly start to fray.
I try so hard to compensate,
it never is enough.
I know I can surely do it,
one thing I am is tough.
I’ve done it before,
the going can get rough.
I’d still immerse in music,
and write my poetry.
It would be much better,
if someone would just “see” me.
I don’t really get it,
my soul longs to be free,
what’s the thing I’m missing,
in my false reality?




Finally someone did see me, his name is Lance and he's my guy.