Tags
Communication, creative, Depression, loss, Metal Boxes, poems, poetry, verse, writing
We hide our thoughts
And faces behind
The fantasies we build
In metal boxes,
The melted sand panes
Reflecting back the cold
Outside,
Holding in our voices
As if they belonged to us
And yet still they slip,
Unruly children,
Through our fingers
As they grasp too late
To ideas on the winter breeze
The chill that keeps us
Safe inside,
Open-mouthed we gasp the poison
That bleeds into our sanctum
Wishing that the journey was worth
The destination,
That our voices would join
With those we hold
In silent esteem,
That we could stay
Forever cocooned in glass and steel,
That all we would be
Would lead us home.
P
© All original writing copyright Chris Nelson 2000-2020
