Lines

Lines upon windows,

Or are they bars?

I cannot tell…

Lines on pages

But no words.

Lines around eyes,

Although I feel no elation.

A grimace perhaps.

This mind has stopped.

No longer mine.

The world,

The one I left

Outside.

Words too many.

Not enough time

To say.

Too many questions

And no answers.

Instead

They can stay

Inside my head.

Do you remember if

I ever lived?

Maybe I didn’t…

Where did I go?

Away…

Dead…

The hills…

Perhaps.

Who knows?

I often think;

Too much in fact,

With no truth.

In lines,

In borders,

In lies

With no order.

 

Open the windows…

I wish,
I wish

That I could.