Marcy

When it comes to the end of the day,
What is normal when it comes to thought,
Is some conscious less monster,
Behind these blue eyes caught,
We put our all into our emotions,
A thing we can’t even see,
As it feels a dark cloud is looming,
And we find our dreams just aren’t free.
 
 
No amount of medication,
Can alter what we truly feel,
Just changes how we deal with it,
Because in the end it still is real,
Are our emotions behind a curtain,
That normally is tightly closed,
Comfortable with hiding the person,
Believing no one cares to know.
 
 
In the darkness do you ask the question,
Is there something wrong with me,
As a constant fear of change,
Creates a false reality,
Easy answers do not exist,
In a life spent with blood and death,
While every dream that we possess,
We keep alive with every breath.
 
 
We’d like our days filled with happiness,
Even though the heart feels broken,
While a person’s entire being,
Hinges on three words spoken,
Is there a way to understand internal,
If it seems to direct our path,
And is there some way to determine,
What causes our love or our raging wrath.
 
 
For all intents and purposes,
Do we become the walking dead,
Lost without our emotions,
And the thoughts swirling in our heads,
The mirror holds our manipulation,
But is it created by our hearts or minds,
Is a part of us lost forever,
Something we’ll never find.
 
 
We spend our lives constantly searching,
Confused by what we’re looking for,
And when we believe we’ve found it,
We seem to just search for more,
It seems we fail to realize,
That what’s most important lives in the heart,
Always seeming to question,
When did love for you really start.

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Barb Clarke
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