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The Walk
June 2, 2009
It turned out to be a game,
No matter what you said about it.
Reflecting is too much pain,
and everything is dead about it.
Nothing stays the same,
can’t promise to forget about it.
No such stronger bind,
It never felt so long.
I always seem to find
A sign in every song.
The image in my mind
turned out completely wrong.
The one thing our hearts lack
is reality with a smile.
Impossible to track,
forced to use denial.
I think I’ll start heading back;
this walk might take a while.
© Marieta S., Pleven, Bulgaria
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