How fragile life is.
More nervous because everything’s fine again.
I can shine and then go against his plan with tiny army men.
Waged war with a pen, threw myself at that wall and it hurt again.
The only blazing equation for this sanitary station as the O.C.D’s raging is to hand all my pages in!
I’d love to make believe I’m safe every night as I sleep.
Love to speculate the hands of fate, turn and everyone makes it before they get out.
That each has a turn at fame and riches, quality of life and fun filled bitches.
I’d love to believe any lie that keeps me high on the deceitful cloud nine, insisting my world is fine.
Instead I cry and cling tight to a ghostly image, I rage fight as truth and science pack my nightmares tight.
So hard to trust it when you know how fragile life is.
It can start and stop with a kiss.
A broken heart or a heartbeat missed.
It can live or die on a thistle or nettle.
It can traverse the universe like something special.
It can die in an eye blink of “why’s”, denial and tell me lies.
Make the world safe again stop the cries.
It’s so hard to trust when you don’t know where the knife is.
It’s so hard to trust when you know how fragile life is.
© G.P Williamson 2018