Reid@YWP

Hours turn into days,

days turn into weeks. 

I can't get out of my head,

I get no sleep.

Scared to look under my bed,

because that's where my demons lay their heads.

With the curtains thrown wide 

we see the world gray 

and we know it's the fault of our own 

Spent far too long 

bearing crown, sword, and shield 

Orange, yellow, and red 
Swirled like a painter mixing his colors 
The brush strokes, light, heavy, loud 
A pallet of only the brightest colors 
Distracting him from the grip of life 

You sit 

in the corner of my room,  

stretched thin across canvas, 

and frozen 

in your forgotten poise. 

It is September, yet 

I can still hear the beach. 

The sea moves and swells; 

it tumbles to the shore, 

dusts itself off,