On.

A day of pieces,
With no releases,
The hope has gone.
This thing goes on.

Glue.

You can keep trying,
Keep turning up,
But it doesn’t mean,
Things have to look up.
You don’t turn up each day,
Just for you.
You turn up for the people,
To whom you are glue.

Dusty

Remember what brings you joy.  Celebrate your joy, your gifts. Honour, make the most of, what you were made for.   Beauty should not be hidden away, For only the few to take joy.  It should be lived every day, by all,Not hidden away in a dusty, privileged, mausoleum.

Your floor.

I can see how you could convince yourself.
Life seeming to roll on as before.
It’s just occasionally you get a reminder,
That there’s nothing solid below your floor.  

Pendulum.

What’s the point in weeping?
It doesn’t change a thing.  
Hold that heavy heart,
As you watch the pendulum swing.

It seemed.

I dared to hope,
Dared to dream.
Enjoyed the moment,
But it’s not all it seemed.

What brings you...

The moments of confidence,
Can leave hours of fear,
Questioning yourself,
Is what brings you here.