Going back to where I learnt most lessons, Doesn’t fill me with the pride I once expected. Seeing how it all was then, A different place - a different time. A bleached canvas, That doesn’t seem real. Will not interact, With the life I have now. Cannot be seen through These thick steel walls. That divides both sides of my mind. Forward, to the way things are now. Bright and alive with warmth. Where pleasures are found and held onto, dearly. But I still go back. To where death marches are common. And the living dead dwell and struggle. Not seeing where is it I have been. Not even caring or understanding why I stay away. They do not look for the happiness they desire. They see pleasure in the pain and sadness they endure. Like a drug, they always seek new pains, always wanting more. I turn my back on this empty, beached canvas world. I know I can create a brighter painting. All I need now is a brush. · S.P. RADFORD
Reason for writing:
This poem was about life in a certain (un-namable at this time) town where I used to live. I was inspired to write this long after I left. It's the first time I was able to express those feelings. And I think now, I've found my brush! - ciao for now - (http://homes.arealcity.com/soulwriters/ )
Steve.
Birth sign: Cancer
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