Dreams that float away.

Mysteries that come my way.

The flow of thought,

disappears as it ought not.

The music that once sang,

is now gone with a pang.

I hide in the hollow of a tree,

hiding from the waves of the sea of misery.

Trying to fill the empty tree,

save it from feeling like me.

But splinters stick to my side,

I fear of the reside.

Never had I loved this feeling,

like always being,