There’s always a difficulty with truth,

kind of gets in the way of a normal day.

Laid in bed early this afternoon, would

rather sleep and escape than pray.

Seems sometimes I can be content

without knowing anything around me.

I just stare at the walls, listening to the 

birds outside, creating their lives.

Somewhere along the way I had a

misstep sent me falling again.

I’d close my eyes if it ever meant

that might be my ticket out of my pain.

Instead I look and hold the walls near,

this is my life I say to myself again.

And then the same thing happens again,

I’m left with little reason to wonder why.