Centre self

as I sit by a clouded window
and scribble passing thoughts
half finished on to cold pains
trying to pin motives and reasoning
on distant chaos

In the brief calm before the next storm
I think of me
the me I barely remember
as I once almost was
the hands I must have had
to hold so strong
to the shape of purpose
the mind I must have had
to mold so much meaningless into shape
what would I give
to have that clear sight again?
the strength to carry heavy loads without breaking

My hand trembles
aching for distraction
and I think a little more
of how brief a time there was a me
delicate for all its boldness
A petal carried by a flood

Chest heavy, I wonder
if anyone saw it passing by
Or If I was lost amongst the torrents
like the drops of rain
never noticed
before falling out of sight
Written by DystopianMelody
All writing remains the property of the author. Don't use it for any purpose without their permission.
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