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The time
I dreamed about a girl last night.
One from my past, one I adored,
I woke up floored, moping,
Cursing the pursuit of happiness.
The attempted abolition of sadness,
Is never truly successful.
Much like religion, it won't be ideally achieved.
Like the bible, concept trumps practice.
Like the cross, symbols of what could be, taunt
and the malcontented failures stain the gaunt.
For me it's projecting my depression unto others,
Sharing the burden.
But like everyone else, women read my broken desires.
Companionship breeds cynicism, and how I dream of being a cynic.
From sadness to hate, fuel is the difference
and a woman would bridge the gap.
From my perspective, this is the chasm of lives
I've tasted one, give me the other.
I beg
This girl I dreamt of, she has forgotten me,
Moved on, lived on, dreamt on.
My mind lingers, occasssionally visiting
The one time.
The blissful purgatory between sadness and hate,
Love,
The one time.
