Doubt
Smoke passing through wet lips,
Wispy clouds of cotton.
Standing all alone here,
With memories long forgotten.
Rain is falling fast around,
As people rush on home.
With drink in hand, still it stands,
Feeling the more alone.
The music plays so loud and clear,
But no one else can hear it.
A foggy mind, a moody mind,
With drink alone to clear it.
The weather washes upon the head,
A cigarette soggy and broken.
Try to repair the feel of despair,
At the words that were never spoken.
So take a drink to the little things,
Upon which the doubt was cast,
And remember that it's not so bad,
To feel alive at last.
By J. Barrett
No comments:
Post a Comment