I am a slave to her cloud of smoke
I sit inside the cloud, listening and learning Of her miseries and her burdens Which weigh her down, like bags of sand And suddenly I realize, I am no longer the child in the sand pit I am no longer chasing the babysitter I am no longer fighting to stay up awhile longer I am a slave today, to her cloud of smoke To take her burdens and wear them on my shoulders To make a liquid of her miseries and drop them into my eyes So that tears fall out and fall down my cheeks And I realize that now I am much older Now time chases me I am fighting to keep my eyes open instead Of succumbing to the sleep that so often feels like a distant dream I am fighting to listen to everybody I am fighting to stay a slave, so they can find comfort I have a choice, but I choose her cloud of smoke
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AuthorI like to write; point blank. This is a little piece of me that I get to share with the rest of the world, and hey, you know, maybe you'll appreciate it, maybe it'll do nothing for you. But my writing exists, and that's enough for me. © 2019 Silvia Iorio. All rights reserved.
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