Monday, August 31, 2009

Falling leaf

Rusty autumn leaves hang on
To a miserable lifeless existance
Awaiting that cold wind
Which spiralling will bring them down.

Trapped inside a happy exterior
Humiliated, sometimes beaten into a mould
The model wife, an efficient homemaker.
Life of the content, shirtless beggar
She dreams-- subconcious escapism,
Longing those times
When being herself was enough.

Time will heal, never.
Like the fall leaf, she waits a-quiver,
The end of a meaningless life
A steep drop that will shatter an empty mould,
Shards of weird misery, a life noone will miss.

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