Writing

Every time I see

An empty chair,

I wonder whose ghost

Is sitting there.

They called me twisted,

Said that something was wrong with me.

Is there?

Is there really something wrong with the things I wish to voice?

I wrote things down. 

(Sometimes)

Life just seems much too hard

(Sometimes)

I don't want to go on

(Sometimes)

I feel like it's impossible-

Immovable walls surround me

(Sometimes)

I don't understand other folks-

Last night,

I dreamed of the clouds.

They looked so magical, all up so high.

Suddenly I was there,

with them.

It was cold- freezing, even.

And the water from the clouds on myself was freezing.

My hands dance across the keyboard,

Letters connecting to one another.

Each word makes my heart ache with the yearning for something,

Somewhere in a far off future, I am

                dancing