The heat of summer is like syrup;
It enfolds me with its sweet sticky ooze.
My steps drag through the swamp of lost dreams
Each day is like that nightmare
Where you can not move.
Days slide by as I hide behind clouds of hope
That disappear into the darkness.
Some days I ride a black stallion called panic
As he races with me tied in the saddle
Into the misty fog of tomorrow.
The strands of time shimmer around me,
The dim light of what was,
The glow of what could have been,
And the storm clouds of what is.
Who thought sheltering me would prepare me
For this road that I must travel?
Where are they now when I need them?
Can I put everything off until tomorrow
With the hope that tomorrow will never come?
I grasp each tiny moment in time
Where I pretend that everything is really ok.
Where do I put that mantra
That always floated by my side
And was so true for me?
The words play over and over in my mind
But can I ever believe them again?
If I say them enough times
Will they really come true?
Did I live in some magical fairyland of life
That was never really true?
I will keep saying it … I will.
Maybe the power it used to have will return.
“Every day … in every way … is better and better!”
There I said it!
Please let it be true.
By Sazzy Oh