Her headspace is filled with doubt, as to how things will turn out. And how others may play their parts, whilst they are playing with her heart.
Unable to keep herself in balance. Unable to keep herself afloat. Although she knows that she has talents, she hids them in a deep dark moat.
She thinks that she will ner be worthy, of a love that indeed could last. As she has drained the love of others, in the recent and further past.
At least that is how she sees things, whether the glass is tinted or no. She feels that she no longer has wings. That she will never really know,
What it is to be truly stable. To have things as she thinks to be. She doesn't even know how to table, what is needed and what should flee.
So she ponders all things at once, as she is prone to do. In so doing pounces and smashes those dreams that do,
Make little sense to most, or so to her they seem. She hopes through this life to coast the never ending stream,
Of mystery surrounding things, and all thats come before. And seems to curse those things, again and more and more,
Her life becomes a mess. A never ending test, that never seems to quell. A most assuming hell.
She wishes to help others but cannot help herself. She wishes to be a good mother but she sits upon a shelf,
And watches others do, better than she at much. She seeks to help you, but she should not touch.
She knows that if she does, another dream will die. As so many before she feels need to cease to try.
If only she could be sure. But no it is not so. That all things were secure. Like heck! she says, No Go!
Nothing is secure. Nothing can be right. So she seeks to close the doors, and sink into the night,
That others may keep their dreams secure within their hearts. Without influence of she then on their own they use their arts,
To decide alone what to do, as her decisions are faulty. That all things they may have. And She'll not hault their lofty,
Goals that they do have. The dreams that they do seek. And once in awhile she may have the chance to peek,
And see them happy instead, as she cannot make them so. That their happiness will help her head, and then she will know,
For sure that as she stands behind, and remains in the clear, that they have chances all combined, without dealing with her near.
She had become a hinderence, in the lives of most. So indeed alone, she must continue to coast.
Perhaps one day she'll gather and muster her own dreams. And perhaps it is she'd rather deal act upon her own things.
And to keep her nose away, from others businesses. That they may have their day and live how they may live.
She had become a pest, one that should be dealt, a card of deciciveness, and melted into smelt.
And then perhaps remolded to suit the needs of others. Perhaps to be refolded to suit anothers druthers.
She'll not be the first on anyones list indeed she'd be the last. Perhaps this is very good as is the way of things past.
So as the song it says, 'love the one you're with'. She sits beyond your door luv and will just stay there and sit.
Kari Shinal Copyright April 7, 2007