by Patrick Marchildon

Created on: December 07, 2009   Last Updated: March 01, 2011

The mind of a repressed kind

Sadness in the eyes of an old friend passing by me in my darkening thoughts
Plagued by ever informative tears in forms of waterfalls in the outskirts of my psyche
As if the realities of my true self are beyond blossoming into expressed language
I've become a footnote of my own intellectual desires; my cravings outside the realm of possibility

Even with my granite chin comes the final blow and it's peering at me from the distance
Constantly throwing rocks at me until I break apart and crumble into
Cookie pieces letting my sweetness fall to the waste side once again
My passionate voice begs of me to hold on tighter than once thought possible until we tumble downward

Into the tumbleweeds of a society that once occupied the land with noble causes
Disillusioned stereotypical caricatures of real people storm the streets and the movie screens
Money morphs into a screaming rage deafening the ears of the cowards writing the pabulum that feeds us all
While creative fingers are relegated to a time where typewriters reigned supreme

We are now residents of the land of the simple and the free
The neglectful, the ignorant, the murdered individuals within a collective of peons
My weighted shoulders wait for relief in form of self reflective epiphany
Never to come until water drips down my back

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