Connections

You live alone.

In a house of brick and clay,

Of grays and blacks and whites,

The non-color playing tricks

On your sleep deprived mind.

You have lost-

Your ability to view color;

It has left you, along with your beliefs and your friends.

The paint on the walls of your mind is beginning to chip,

Leaving your soft brain tissue

Exposed and open to attack

From a friend,

From an enemy,

From a next door neighbor.

You used to be strong.

Your personality overpowered those

Who tried to influence your life in the past.

Now you are weak,

Unsure of yourself,

Stumbling upon the thin concrete curb

That divides your strength and vivacity

From your tears and weakness.

Where are you?

Your inner turmoil has ripped you

From the stable, loving place

Where you belong.

You stand upon this desolate

And barren road,

With the dust blowing your waist length hair behind you

And the wind vigorously heaving your tears from your eyes.

You feel beautiful.

You know that you will be protected.

You can smell better times coming your way;

Like the smell of apples as you near an orchard;

The smell of bed

After a long day;

Of home after work;

Of love after hate.