Heads Or Tails

searching within himself, he lives restless, blank, and lonesome

outside he's vain, sporting baggie eyes, dapperly dressed in his mourning

memories point towards where he's fooled by the years he's buried and hidden

time's difficult to swallow hole when wandering round so tired and weary

why ask where again, or how, inquiring over and over again for nothing

each night before dawn breaks feels like the darkness moves inside of him

days without light will rise up cold, bleak, and over cast in cloudiness 

while rainy days continue to shower foreign sheets of dripping wet emotion

his head's flooded, filled with puddled thoughts seeking closure 

didn't get any answers when playing "Life" and winning every so often

instead he received questions for questions he asked morn', noon, and nightly

confused when he ordered reasons served cold and rare with honesty

laying in his bed of nails tossing, turning, where yesterday remains quietly

unable to make heads or tails of which thoughts coming and which one's going.

 

Reviews

[Deandra Dawn]

I really enjoyed this. He would fit perfectly with the "she" I am always writing about. I love when you can feel the emotion and power behind the words. Nicely done. Thank you for sharing.

[Dmi]

No worries. Thanks for taking your time to read a bit of my writing. Very kind of you.