The Worst of Crimes

I dream all day and think all night,
It’s all messed up, but I’m alright,
No matter how hard, no matter how rough,
In the end I’ll still get up.

The troubles facing me don’t waver,
But I fight them without a quaver,
I won’t give up, not just yet,
I won’t give up, no matter the sweat.

I’ll keep going, and going strong,
For as long as I can prolong,
This senseless pain from which I suffer,
And the strange confusions that I buffer.

I try and try and try again,
Yet I know that this won’t be the end,
I feel like giving up sometimes,
But wouldn’t that be the worst of crimes?

Soul-wrenching sadness

It tears at my soul,
Yet still I want more,
This feeling, it’s strange,
I need it, somehow.

It whispers to me,
Quiet but sure,
Takes away what’s left of me,
In the hours of night.

It kills off the goodness,
Feeding the dark,
It’s trapped me forever,
In it’s glossy enfolds.

This feeling won’t end,
Now I need freedom,
I don’t think I’ll survive,
Through it’s awful sorrows.

I’m Different

I sing though happiness does not come,

I laugh but it is a laugh not happy for some,

I smile but it’s a disguise for my pain,

I tease, but none will remember my name.

I smile though it’s hard through all the tears,

I smile though it’s hard through all these years,

I remember things that others forget,

And smile upon memories that many regret.

I’m different from them, that much is clear,

No one there will find me dear,

But if I try I’ll get strange looks,

I think I’ll go back to reading my books.

Dreamland

I glance down at the papers,

Held firmly in my hand,

Then suddenly they taper,

Then dissolve into sand.

I stare in wonder when I see,

When that wondrous thing occurred,

Something I know couldn’t be,

When that puppy dog sadly purred.

I run towards that picture,

High upon the wall,

When creatures give me lectures,

Sounding quite appalled.

All this seems so strange to me,

I’m no good at off-hand,

Then I very suddenly see,

That I’m stuck in Dreamland.

Moonbeam

Last night I looked outside,

And saw a pool of water,

There wasn’t any tide,

But I still caught her.

A little girl wading,

With skin like pale milk,

Crying, raiding,

Skin shining like silk.

She emitted a soft glow,

A tear dropped from her eye,

The wind did slightly blow,

She let out a little sigh.

I called into the night,

“Who are you, little girl?”

The girl looked very startled,

Very shocked upon my sight,

But then replied, “I’m moonbeam,”

And gave a little twirl.

Strange things did happen then,

And I was shocked to see,

The pool turned a ghastly glow again,

I thought it was a dream.

The little girl’s tears did fall,

As she climbed out of the pool,

Answering a call, an angry sort of drawl,

She whispered to none I can see, perhaps it was a rule,

“Oh, how I’ll miss this little pool.”

That night was very odd,

No odder would it be,

If the little girl came once again to the lodge,

And stayed for me to see.