The bats in the
belfry flutter and romp
In a mind already
cluttered with scattered thoughts.
They tear up the
papers and shred the colors
Of distant skies
from long lost remembrances.
Their flapping stirs
the pictures
Bringing memories to
mind,
But throwing close
kept secrets to the attic ceiling.
There's a single
light there dangling from a lonely string
Rustled by the
breeze meandering through the cracks.
And all the while a
smile sits upon your face
Falsely reassuring
peace to the occasional passerby.
But behind your
aching, smiling cheeks you crouch
In your attic
watching your sanity fly.
No comments:
Post a Comment