his face is pale
his pills are blue
and you can tell
that he is bruised
the present the past and the future
all looking forward to sue him
mistakes he has done
now they call him bad
so many thoughts in him
so few words
emotions like a rainbow
of all sorts yet intangible
his screams like a whisper
carried away by the wind
only if there was a beacon
a log to hold on to
he wouldn't have drowned In the dead sea
the black pool of his thoughts
they haunt him day and night
it's all empty he thinks to himself
life and death
day or night
he doesn't see the difference
yet with a wave he said goodbye
and it was for good
for he was
and he was not
©peakynate
P