stories of the undaunted.

12 | lost and found

I wandered the streets of the town
Hoping to find someone who wore the crown
I hid, I sailed, I dug deeper down
I hoped I was considered to be nothing but drowned
I covered my traces, here and out
I prayed I never have to doubt
All were hidden yet exposed for all to see
But inside, I was dying for someone to notice me
And there you were, all misty and without a shroud
Here I am, before lost, now found

These were the times I'd consider happy
Times I wished would last eternally
As fate and luck would suddenly agree
That we meant to destroy each other out of envy
And that is the one I dreaded most
When all is gone and happiness is the cost
Everything blew away when the coin is tossed
Nothing was left when all found was lost
This is the tribulation we must tread
I hope we live through the very end

I hope, I pray, I seek, I say
All this but I still have a price to pay
I meant to believe that this isn't our day
But I knew we'd lead each other astray
I suppose we let ourselves do a different way
This is pain—when we do nothing but lay
In our own faults, faith is as brittle as hay
But I knew we'd still say we're okay
I'm fine, even though it's already pain
Lost, found, then lost again, what will we gain?

I'm fine but it really hurts
When I see your back flutter against the train boards
With your suitcase strapped to your seat
Pretending not to care and your candle is not lit
Propping a magazine, looking for my face
Still hoping I'd run and stop the tracks at its pace
The train honked and left a trail
A trail of memories, of nothing but pain
I stood there, feeling the ground shake beneath
As I knew the love of my life I never again would meet

Again, I don't know my point in this poem was. One day, I just sat and found a piece of paper and a pencil. I wrote. And now we have this poem.

This is where the structure of my poems would come close to what they are now and I'm thrilled to see myself pawing here and there for the perfect structure for me. It's fun.

I don't know what story I was trying to tell in this poem and I certainly have no preconceived notion about it. This was written using a pencil in my poetry notebook and I don't know why.

So, what do you think? Comment below. :)