I withdraw into myself.
I wonder what comes next to the mind.
It's pointless to say the world spins,
When my world is in the paper and as thin.
Next scene comes to my window,
A lady in red against red.
Blood red yet once thrilled me,
Came back again to haunt me,
The vision of marriage in sacred red -
Thrown down, walked over and shred.
Divorce papers are on their way.
Their lawyers talk everyday.
What happened? Stop and think
Where that first misstep came to begin.
I withdraw into myself.
I wonder what comes next to the mind.
It's pointless to say the world exists,
When my world is in the paper in my fist.
Another scene, a flashback of sorts.
The first time trying,
The first cry, the first call.
Never to see Daddy except on weekends
And Mommy was in rehab quite weakened.
Four years old, scenes come crashing,
Moments burning in jealousy at other lives flashing.
Never to feel or see both parents smile,
Not together, not even for a while.
Something between them had died.
I withdraw into myself.
I wonder what comes next to the mind.
It's pointless to say the world mirrors,
For my life is in the paper that can not be mirrored.
Mirrors broken, pieces around.
A fire extinguisher broken, unsound.
The rooftops burning, crashing down.
Teenage release, a pain more easily found -
Easily found, easier to understand
Than the blinding headaches of quarrels overheard.
A need to drop all and run away,
Somehow to find another way.
But what are the ways of escape?
A juvenile prison is better to evade.
I withdraw into myself.
I still see the lady in red,
I still remember her laughing face,
Walking around a fire, a shy embrace,
The new blossomed love that shone so bright,
About which I wish I could write -
But it's pointless to say the world is real,
When all is fake with only the paper real...
