bluestormy

I am from pickup trucks, from Converse and guitars. I am from the musty books who's old wrinkly paper tell tales of the past. I am from the floating seeds of the cottonwood trees, the sweet prairie grass cut down each year and wound into bales.

I am from campfires and blue eyes, from Durwood and Oliver and Bell. I am from storytellers and stubbornness. From the hurry up, the slowdown and the do not worry. I am from the non-believers and the skeptics; from those who question and ponder the unexplainable.

 

I am from Stormont-Vail and Triple V, from corn on the cob and chamomile tea. From the bull who's horns hang on the wall as reminder of my granddad's temper, and the cartoons drawn by my papa while away from his young child back home. In the attic there is a dresser filled with tea sets, red tennis shoes, and letters addressed to those long gone, that pull me into the past. 

They never leave me, always right behind,
And they watch me as I struggle in vain.
I fall into the madness of my own mind.

I try and run away only to find,
The fruitless efforts just cause me more pain.
They never leave me, always right behind.

I know that my sanity has declined,
And once my energy begins to wane,
I fall into the madness of my own mind.

I never realized that I was so blind,
I left them in control of my brain.
They never leave me, always right behind.

Every second they whisper and remind,
That I am going completely insane.
I fall into the madness of my own mind.

I cannot run, for our fates are entwined,
Catching me in an unbreakable chain.
They never leave me, always right behind.
I fall into the madness of my own mind.

Lies surround her entire world and past.
She is alive only to be haunted.
She is happy living in shadows cast,
Of those who ignore all the unwanted.

Hidden in plain sight amongst the madness,
She believed that no one saw through her pain.
Mischievous smiles masked by sadness,
Revealed her as though completely insane.

As she lay in wait broken and battered,
A small trusting hand came out of the dark,
Repairing memories that were shattered,
Igniting her inner flame with a spark.

Someone was now with her until the end,
She got her only wish of having a friend.

Throughout the night you can hear the cries
Covered in silent wishes and lies
As their lives lay broken
And their hearts frozen
A piece of their tortured soul dies

Nothing good can ever last
Just the memories stay in the past
Broken and shattered
As if they never mattered
Perhaps their lot in life has been cast

Through the hollow darkness they came
Without any regrets or shame
They came all alone
With an eerie moan
With only themselves to bear the blame

Out of despair he went walking
With only his fellow ghost stalking
He hit the hard ground
With darkness all around
As his ghost stood silently mocking

The darkness of night was daunting
As the moon and mist were taunting
The moss hanging wet
He was not there yet
The sound of its breath was haunting