It seems I chatter. A lot. To myself. I will have entire conversations with myself . Debates even. I don’t know if other people do the same but I prefer to think they do. And so I wonder what other people talk to themselves about. I talk to myself about poem titles and plots for the book I will write someday. I talk to myself about the kids, the husband, the single flower I have nurtured for two years that still hasn’t grown. (But at least it’s not dead either.) I even talk to myself about why I am talking to myself, and many times I make myself laugh. I’m kinda funny. I think. These daily chats help me to think and problem solve. They also assist in my creative process whether it be writing, drawing, or building a sand castle. This poem/song is a result of one of those days when everything just seemed to annoy me. It isn’t one of my favorites but it got the job done.  It also doesn’t have a title because after I was done writing it, I couldn’t get an answer as to what it should be. I guess I’ll save that conversation for another day.

I woke up one day and said
Hey what’s goin on?
My life is over but it hasn’t yet begun.
The years fly past
but time
has hardly moved at all.
I’m on the brink of danger,
But I’m laughing through it all.

What happened to my yesterday?
I’m not ready for the next day.
Somewhere I must have gotten lost,
somewhere along the way.
I didn’t know how much it cost, didn’t know the price I’d pay.
Now it seems with
every backward glance,
Tomorrow’s turning gray.

Troubles knocking on my door,
So instead I look ahead,
Wait. I’ve seen its face before.
From the gloomy coat it sheds.
I’m tired of the lonely fight,
the constant drone of pain,
I’ve had enough, I’m giving up, there’s not enough to gain.

What happened to my yesterday?
I’m not ready for the next day.
Somewhere I must have gotten lost,
somewhere along the way.
I didn’t know how much it cost,
Didn’t know the price I’d pay.
Now it seems with every
backward glance
Tomorrow’s turning gray.

Then in the early frozen morning, the same old sun will shine,
Lapping up the dew drops
A master of design.
The guilty and the Innocent,
The sultry and the prude
All seem to stand against me,
With vengeful attitude.

What happened to my yesterday
I’m not ready for the next day
Somewhere I must have gotten lost
Somewhere along the way.
I didn’t know how much it cost,
Didn’t know the price I’d pay,
Now it seems with
every backward glance
Tomorrow’s turning gray.
With every single backward glance
The piper wants his pay.

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