When it rains it pours
From the windows of soul
The curse of my fate
To catch the glimpse of pain
On your beautiful face
That pleads for reconciliation
In the midst of this desolation
Of triumph we know none
This is warfare
This is militaristic fun
Of green army men
Versus tan brethren
Strategically placed in childhood
Toys left out to play
As adults sidestep through by ways
We may pretend to be bold
Grown and in full pursuit
But I still see the pain
Hidden away caused from my refrained state
Betrayal and weight of only allowing a certain
Small in sequential safeguards into my bunker
To extend past this bomb shelter any further
Would risk nuclear fallout and cell decay
If these words directly I could say
The picture would attempt a Picasso
A bit crazy a bit burdened a bit sheltered too
I will carry the pain of that second with you.
Copyright, 2010, Christopher Baird--all rights reserved.
Contact me for reprint/posting permission.
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