It’s a funny thing ain’t it,
To long for something that’s no longer there,
No way to return nor get it back,
Yet that longing still remains.
Like a veil over our eyes
That is ignored but never overlooked,
It stays like a throbbing pain,
Blurring our focus,
Longing for what we can never have,
For it is the past that we cannot touch,
Once passed, never to return,
Yet that longing surrounds us.
We reach but can no longer feel
As our hands pass through time,
While our present goes by before our eyes,
But it is not seen, only to be saw.
Out of grasp but we do not notice,
Hoping for a miracle to save us,
While we are alive but not living,
Memories are the safe haven
And the doom to our existence,
Yet that longing is in our core.
It takes over and we cease to exist,
Becoming who we wish not to be,
We cannot stop as it invades
Our being and our soul,
For it is the devil disguised as the good,
And without looking back we fall,
We think it will save us,
Times that were simple
We long to go back,
And the tea is bittersweet.
We are hooked to the drug,
Never stop reaching – it is all we know,
It overpowers and destroys what we once were,
That longing is who we are.