That final remaining piece of joy,
that thin and fragile strand that at one time
connected me
grounded me,
that kept me hanging on to youth and childhood
has been cut.
It is over now.
Cold hard and bleak,
laughterless reality
beyond feelings
has cold hand gripped my heart
and squeezed reality in my fantasy dreaming
idiocy.
There is no going back
to pastures of green and idyllic memory
those pastures have been flame thrower torch
obliterated.
There is nothing to go back to.
And that is OK. Because going back there
was preventing me
from going forward.
And that is the only direction left.
So thanks to setting fire to hopes.
I can move on to other places now.
