Something must not be right.
I can never sleep at night.
I'm kept awake with thought.
No matter how hard it is fought.
People come with pictures;
self portraits, what they like,
Something that's theirs.
It is completed as they live.
There are blueprints in place,
but the lines always give.
The lines can appear with perfection.
As long as the life drawn is happy,
but once filled with rejection,
The line will swerve a bit.
To mess everything up,
to show something doesn't fit.
Mine is traced with many swerves.
When I focus back I am not very happy,
I wonder what all these mistakes serve.
Every disappointment throws the line off,
Am I messing up my life completely?
The blue marks once seen are no where.
Am I too offtrack to fix it?
I think so,
Too bad there's no one to care.