THE SUBCONSCIOUS

Brenda L. 11th - Livermore, CA
​In a crying river is where I left the key to my soul. Under a crumbling palace is where I left a fragment of myself. Over the heavy gray clouds is where a piece of my mind resides. Struck in the middle of an asphalt road is where my destiny waits patiently for a day that will never come. Crossing the wild ferns a glimpse of my true self peaks out from its exile. In the wavering trees rest my tears and high above in the canopy my laughter dissolves into the atmosphere. On the fine line between light and darkness my moral compass searches for the right direction. Underneath the very Earth who swallows me, my roots go for miles on a never ending journey. Inside the skipping pebbles by the lake lives a threatening and serene thought. The simple projection of a drum focuses life into my dying heart. Like an ornament on a long dark cloak, the stars that watch me sigh. I can suppress but never forget things that make my chest ache. She sees you from above or at least it's a reassuring thought. The birth of water is pure, but as all things turn bitter and rot. Hidden beyond the white light is my sense of worth and in front is a gap too wide.