How's it that I long for things,
That I try to break away from?
Why does sorrow engulf regret,
Like thunder on a stormy night.
Life now makes me wonder,
If guilt, remorse, grief and despair,
Is all that exists for my pleasure,
Do I take these away from the air?
All those pages that I read,
And those which I scribbled in,
Deep inside they fall apart,
Tearing up through bare skin.
This agony must soon pass,
The old convincing lie!
It never passed; to the wry,
You either adjust or succumb.
But, watch the kids, they smile,
Not having learnt to see the dark,
Need to be the same for a while,
Incapable, makes me grieve again.