Cushioned by these feelings that escape me,
Vanishing between the lines.
Shadowing any movement that crosses me,
Dissappearing from my life.
All I know is that this could be an illusion,
So I trust in my impaired judgment,
Wondering what could have been.
Seeking something unaware of the consequence,
Torn across all playing fields,
Heroes graves mark the lines.
As I reach out to touch the stone,
I realise it is really foam.
It rides the wind until it drops,
And settles on someones crop.
Wipe it clean, suck up the dirt,
Graze my knees, and feel it hurt.
No pain, no gain. I will retain.
I will return, but nothing is the same.
Experience this fearful emotion,
Tearing me up inside.
Feel my pain from the outset,
Leaving me uptight.
Waking up to endevour,
Waking to endevour, whatever.
Waking up to nothing. . .
Life is severed.