Something is happening
these days, coping with loss
and grief, time is a thief,
I want to find myself,
your little elf on the shelf,
somewhere up,
top of the mountain, fountain
of eternal youth, so smooth,
just watching the sunset.
I realized that we are not eternal,
at least not here on Earth,
no more Walmart, smart
nut this is not enough
why is it so rough
to deal with the death of a dream,
I like biscuits and cream,
I have no steam,
as the years pass by,
oh my, and I keep asking why
do I need to adapt to a different future,
instead of a different past?
If I must, it was not quite a blast
At this time,
I needed to participate
to one not-so-fancy funeral,
the death of a dream.
And I want to scream.
One of many, but this one
was quite an important one,
and as I use my writing
as a cheap form of psychotherapy,
between you and me,
I will let this one tear
drop, just this one time,
and then, stop writing,
for now.
No more
I told you so!
I go.
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