A crayon drawing.
The poem below I put to piano some weeks ago. It’s about a mix of conflicts in mind–wondering how it is I’m still here at all and what- if anything- could be wanted with what I’ve turned into. The last three lines were omitted as lyrics.
At the end
Is a heaviness, a hush
I’ve followed too far, I’ve bled too much
Set free once the hollow heart beat goes
I slip beyond – between – beneath…
A cold and lightless soul
So, how did I drift into your dream?
How did my shade become one you could see?
You call out, you follow to reach
Your grasp is now upon – tearing my wings
You dare claim I am loved,
That I am someone you need
But I have nothing…
How it hurts when I fall to your feet
You beg me to wake, yet I hardly breathe
But you will keep believing and
Want more for what it means to be
Something of yours
I don’t know who/what to turn to now. There’s always something I could be working on or planning, but it doesn’t fill what’s missing. And I don’t know just what’s missing…
Maybe I’m 100% well and just over thinking this emptiness. Left alone just a few years too long.