Sometimes I Wonder
Sometimes I wonder when my heart fell, then continue to fall in fields of rocks and stones - trying to duck and dodge the waves of hills missing the thrills of all I should be glad.
Sometimes I wonder when I will laugh for real - an uncontrollable laughter that shakes the walls that trap me. Holding me back from forward - quickly slipping through halls of regret, jumping over empty holes, playing a game of life that won't quit.
Sometimes I wonder why the soldiers who signed up for war die when the ones unwillingly drafted escape the welcoming , comforting clutches of death.
Sometimes I wonder who I am, who I should be and how to fill the gap in between, which is where I am stuck. Chipping away at cracks to see the light - fussing with life, running toward the end, with no thought of the road.
Sometimes I wonder if all I despise about the painting is the very thing that makes the painting priceless. Wonder why every time I try to be happy my eyes are clouded with despair.
Wonder why being happy is so hard when misery hangs around, enveloping my being. Sometimes I wonder why I try to fight what will be - can't argue with what you see.
By Andrew J Dorsey
December 9, 2007 - 4:18 p.m.
Sometimes I wonder when I will laugh for real - an uncontrollable laughter that shakes the walls that trap me. Holding me back from forward - quickly slipping through halls of regret, jumping over empty holes, playing a game of life that won't quit.
Sometimes I wonder why the soldiers who signed up for war die when the ones unwillingly drafted escape the welcoming , comforting clutches of death.
Sometimes I wonder who I am, who I should be and how to fill the gap in between, which is where I am stuck. Chipping away at cracks to see the light - fussing with life, running toward the end, with no thought of the road.
Sometimes I wonder if all I despise about the painting is the very thing that makes the painting priceless. Wonder why every time I try to be happy my eyes are clouded with despair.
Wonder why being happy is so hard when misery hangs around, enveloping my being. Sometimes I wonder why I try to fight what will be - can't argue with what you see.
By Andrew J Dorsey
December 9, 2007 - 4:18 p.m.
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