Reality

Back to the real world.
I got lost in your eyes once.
And every time I daydream…
slipping back into the memories…

I have to tear my heart back into reality.
Things never really do change do they?
Or maybe it’s not that everything doesn’t change,
but that its changing constantly.
And I can never keep up.

Too many words about how broken my heart is and never was.
Too many lines describing how physiologically and emotionally messed up I really am.
Too many paragraphs trying to outlet such depression
that every word feels like a forgettable dreams lie.
Too many poems written trying to be able to find out
what went wrong and why I feel so f*****g empty.



Back into the real world.
I cover up the infectious wound.
Tie on the mask...
Walk out the door.
How did I get so lost?

Author's Note

the rough draft of a poem im working on.