MAB ( / Sydney)


Is pain relative, or abstract we muse
Do we forget those scenes from our past
Can anguish be so easily forgotten
Diluted by new thoughts and events so vast.

Do we remember those voices, those words
We store them so carefully in rooms deep and wide
The keys so easily misplaced in our mind
Without them we are lost with no place to hide.

One day the truth will spring to the fore
Laying bare the pretense the deceit and the lies
Will truth always triumph and wipe the slate clean
A chameleon viewed before other men's eyes.

We are a mixture of pain and of pleasure
Fortunate to live from one day to next
What is the salve for that which is normal
The answer to this is found in no text.

Leave me alone to ponder my future
I've tried and I've failed to master black fears
When I return I will be a new canvas
Reborn and renewed and no place for tears.

MB 3/1/2011

by Michael A Berriman

Comments (1)

mixture of pain and pleasure..