I Write Poetry

Head in the clouds
Hope in a grave,
The lies that I took,
The love that I gave,
The darkness creeps in,
As the ember tires,
Haunted by pasts,
Of the once raging fires,
Eyes bright with passion,
Now just ash and tears,
Swallowing the sadness,
Choking on pains and fears,
We tread the razors edge,
Of nightmares and dreams,
Stuck somewhere between,
These whispers and screams,
Surviving in reverse,
Diamonds turned to coal,
A life spent only dying,
A torn and tattered soul,
Hearts growing colder,
With each deepening cut,
Sealing off feelings,
Like windows painted shut,
Sit reading the epitaph,
On the headstone,
In a crowded room,
You still feel alone,
We try to make due,
We cope for our reasons,
Search for angels in others,
To quell our own demons,
We hate all the lies,
We just want what is true,
Though still wear fake smiles,
Insecurities bleed through,
Finding the distance,
Between wants and needs,
A step or a journey,
Both flowers and weeds,
Sundials in shadows,
Still tell of the times,
Of our paths to walk,
The mountains we must climb,
We need to free ourselves,
From the walls that we contrived,
You're not a dead and broken spirit,
But the pieces that survived.