Black Balloon

I fill my room with black balloons
helium high keeps me up at night
but that’s the least of my worries
and I have few in comparison
to years ago when I dreaded
the rise of the sun…or its setting

The clouds hang low every now and then
And off in the distance there is a haze
that can’t or won’t burn off for days and days
My personal prison wistfully floating
…and self-imposed
Familiar or not – it’s just my way
…reluctantly, I suppose
and I’m not sure how I ended black balloons shadows blended

The days slip by; the weekends turn around so fast
its remnants never leave they always stay
and wont resolve themselves until it’s far too late
so I continue to sleep walk night into day
I never see the sun set on the horizon anymore
because I can’t find the time to sit…or wait

Dreams fall short when purpose and angst
have met their match twisted ribbons I do adore
black balloons begin to fall leaving nothing
but latex shadows on the floor

Point of contention I do recall
this was never about you at all
This was never about you
and the dragons that you have slain
or the demons that sleep comfortably in my bed
and childhood pranksters do remain
…and black balloons shimmer in the night
drifting gently sweet-one as they dance with delight

©2017 TrilbyYates

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