Sometimes…by CpSingleton © 2015
Somewhere in a bubble is
A sometime boy or girl.
Somethings make their hair
Turn from straight to curl.
That depends on what day
They might get the news.
They struggle to open eyelids,
Though they have to force them shut.
They sometimes feel the darkness
Like a stinging paper cut.
They search concertinaed minds
For convoluted clues.
Others think they’re moody or
A bitter little pill. Some others
Avoid their paths, like they have
Evil to fulfil. But they don’t!
They merely see life through
Two sets of contrasting specs.
It depends on days and weather.
They can change without a thought.
For them there are degrees to grey.
Not black and white, like taught.
They count the rain drops through
The drumbeat on their necks.
They themselves feel different, a
Cruel joke the gods have played.
A penance for a past life slight,
View original post 22 more words