Could this be a game
could this be a show?
Left with these questions
yet none really know.
These things I have heard
these things I have seen,
How certain are you
that this isn’t a dream?
For how does one handle
what’s locked in their head?
The people they’ve lost
the tears they have shed?
The pain they’ve endured
the troubles they’ve faced,
The sorrow they’ve fought
the freedom they’ve chased?
These memories haunt
from deep in our mind,
Often we watch them
and they keep us blind.
Engulfed in our past
our losses, our pain;
Yet still, in the end,
it all stays the same.
We’re stuck sitting here
adrift in our past,
Ignoring this world
that won’t always last.
We’re walking away
succumbing to trance,
Consciously voiding
what could be our chance.
Our chance to be free
to live and let go,
Our shot to be more
than this act or this show.
Our moment to prove
we can outlast the pain,
For this is our life
and again we shall reign.
—kayla walker
Flommist Kayla Walker is just a simple poet who is fascinated by rhyme, using it as a voice to speak for the girl lost in her own mind. Copyright © 2017 Kayla Walker.
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