We've all tried every day and all the time
To make sense of a world going nuts,
And it seems by the minute, going more insane.
In our heads growing if possible wearier,
As we go about the little bussiness of our
Very busy lives,
Half-dead or zombie-like
As we go to our little beds
Every night.
With an unreal sense of not really
Belonging, here and there.
Trying to reach out with full
Hands
For any scraps of bread or
Whatever leftover life cast us, our little ways.
Searchin missing
Pieces of a lost puzzle,
As we all make up, our great and little
Dreams
Rising as high from the ashes
Where once stired a fire
We held, against our heart
Sometimes only... broken dreams
While all the time, we put on
And donne our superficial
Mask
Waiting and everyday hoping
That our time on this earth
Is still not yet, up.
Dorian Petersen Potter
aka ladydp2000
copyright@2001