The point of trying.

just a little something

When the city came to me
in a dream accidentally,
I knew who wasn't there.

When death came to me
in forms of possibility,
I knew I couldn't believe what I'd seen.

My intentions weren't the best,
not bad, just absurd.
Scraping the sky with my cloudy mind
I knew
it wasn't right.

Now I'm chasing my shadow
the same your body hides in.
You're a silhouette,
a figurative figment of me.

There's a point I need to find
so I climb
up those veiny vines
to the heart of why we still try.

Reviews

[Me]

Your way with words floats each line into a stunning array of phrasing - another gem which was a pleasure to read

[Pi Cee]

Like the imagery. Good piece.