February 5, 2021
Sitting under the poa tree,
I wait for someone to notice me,
Hoping no one sees the tears I have shed
For my smile hides a bit of my sadness,
And guile hides my bit of my madness
And often these days I fall off the bed.
I try to escape on a stint to Minneapolis,
For the ache blunts my long lost happiness,
And I feel like my heart has been misled.
And if I can admit and be a little more honest,
Only in the tree’s shade can I find any solace,
I am hoping psychiatry can pry open my head.
Sitting under the poa tree,
I hide away from society,
Suffering with a soul unfed.
I travel for miles to paint on this canvas,
I tamp down the anxiety and the panic,
And try to replace them with calm instead.