I don’t know words that
haven’t been spoken before
as I sat on the step above the
other listening to parents roar.
Games I am master of what,
inside the dreams of vicious tones,
the masters themselves taught
me to love and what to frown on.
Dwindle the madness ride
the wind as I go down slides.
The past it stings a vicious
cold and deadening aid at side.
Cars wreck and the effects
the alcohol I remember fade
away as they did that day
as I revealed my secret shade.
Under the overtures of happy
thoughts we do as we’re not
suppose to but we do anyway
the things time has forgot.
Linger in the past too long
and it will yield a grassy hill
that is worn not warm ill
has become the land it’s killed.
Forward not the past I request
from the frown I wear best
is every day moving at me
in the wrong direction as a quest.
Turn around I can not I will
think past troubled hills
as best as I can in tree tops
hope for sounds whippoorwills.
RMC 
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