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Deep Inside,
Found my sanity in my coat pocket today
stuck between old receipts and a ticket stub,
remembering the good times when
I was able to see straight and hold my head up high.
Before the haze rolled in,
the haze that even now clouds my judgment
Three years surrounded in the fog.
This was my ticket,
My transfer, for the bus to freedom.
I could have gone for a ride,
Escaped from the plains where I have been lost for so long.
Wrapped up my worries in a bundle and chucked them out the
window,
And out of my life.
But I placed my sanity back in my pocket
between the receipts while waiting for my bus,
only to have it fall deeper into my memories.
I see the bus from a distance
and I frantically dig through my pocket
where I find gum wrappers and loose change,
crumpled papers with secrets scrawled on them
But my sanity had fallen through a hole in my pocket,
and I didn't know.
So I let my memories flood into me with every thing I touched in
my pocket
Every thing, bringing back feelings and emotions.
Ticket stubs that fill my mind with the joy of being with a
friend,
Tissue packs reminding me of the tears I have cried at night
My keys, a feeling of security
Scribbled notes of treasured moments shared with my best friends.
With the bus approaching I begin to dig deeper.
I find a small figurine that hits me with blows of love and
heartbreak,
An old picture, of an old friend shatters me with pain and
misery.
The bus stopped in front of me as these feelings knocked me to
the ground.
My hands grasped the air
closing over nothing.
My hands were empty.
My hands touched, what brought back feelings of loneliness and
fear,
Memories of emptiness, the annihilation of my self-confidence
that I have worked so hard to build back up to the bare minimum.
I hear the bus doors open only to hear it close again as my
tear-filled eyes searched the ground on my hands and knees
looking for what I have lost, my mind screaming
As the bus rolls away,
my hands,
they find my sanity, holding it tight,
I collapse onto the ground in hysterics between laughter and
hiccups of tears and wails.
But my cries, they die away when I feel a hand on my shoulder,
And I look up, to see friendly faces smiling down at me,
Hands outstretched to help me up
I clutched their hands,
like a life line,
holding on tight as they walked with me,
Never wanting to let go
I held on.
They walked with me.
Who needs a bus when you have
friends to walk with down the road to freedom. |
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