An escape? yes.
But certainly not a forgotten stain.
The events play in my head continuously,
like a so forgotten tape left running alone in an empty cinema hall.
Hollow, empty, with no actual abode,
i cling to the last of the memories hoping they would draw back,
all that was.
Silence, anger, with no measure,
Builds inside me, my body will break,
i tell myself, but these walls that hold me are strong ,
all a lie.
tend to fire up like a volcano,
in and out of my body like a congested hall,
i cannot escape the stain.
So i allow myself to break, and heal and break till i heal of the pain,
that is all around me.
Thoughts of a million ways that i would have done things,
fight their way inside my mind,
i laugh at some, yes, they make me the happiest in the room.
i certainly can make a new world just as beautiful as I want it to be,
i smile on, and move on, just afew steps then back again,
I need to smile more often.
This, an escape? No.
Delusionment is my favourite sister,
Delusional: adjective. having false or unrealistic beliefs or opinions:
for i love to imagine, and wonder,
there’s certainly no escape for me.
i want to be in the moment as much.
luckily i can keep on with them.