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Leaves
October 12, 2013
Dead leaves fly around in my head,
Each one of them weighting me down like a ton of lead.
They loop around, waiting to be set free,
So I can get them far away from me.
The easiest way seems to be from the head to the mouth,
Yet when they leave, things turn south.
No one wants to listen or stay around
To hear the broken girl make a sound.
So more dead leaves fill my mind,
Collected from insecurities over time.
Yet one green leaf finds its way in the fray,
The one hope that the dead leaves are not here to stay.
© Alex B., Rome, NY
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