waking dream

once again,
I'm at a loss for words
studying
staring
losing myself
in the pieces
I have yet to reassemble;
the pieces
I have carried
like the burdens
of an empty childhood
or the barriers
you can't break down
as you stand in the corner,
the impenetrable wallflower.
years dissolve
like sand
between your fingers
and you wonder
I wonder
the world wonders--
where do all the hours go?
why do all the memories
good and bad
seem fairly pleasant
in retrospect;
life, all around
is beautiful.
or is that a fool's perception?
if so,
how can only a fool
conjure such a limelight
that puts the darkness to shame?

standing in the corner
the girl thinks,
still as stagnant water
how could life be beautiful
all around
if one could not bask
if one could not shine
if one could not breathe,
live
feel alive
as a participant
in this waking dream called Life.