I am a stranger walking on broken glass, pretending that I am still the person I used to be.
The person who danced on the sparkling dewdrops of tomorrow's possibilities, singing, as if nothing could ever stop those gossamer dreams from becoming reality. The kid with an anchor that never let windblown sails veer them off course. The kid who smiled for no reason at all.
Back then, life was the golden rays of a rising sun, promising new opportunities in the reflections in the dew-laden grass, in the songbirds' warbling notes, in the flower buds of spring.
Yet we wake from even the most pleasant of dreams, don't we.
And so this dream too came crashing down in a hailstorm of fury upon my head. And now I move forward with uncertainty. I am a stranger walking on broken glass, pretending I am still the person I used to be.
YOU ARE READING
Scattered Leaves
PoetryLanguage is a reflection of humanity. Chaos that veers into organization Just to spin away again with a giggle and a grin. Random poems that I write. I will update sporadically. Constructive criticism is appreciated. If you want to see my best poem...
