The Empty House
Here we are,
guests in this empty house,
no host to be seen.
Food and bedding have been laid out,
from place to place,
as if in expectation of our arrival.
We don't know why or from where,
yet here we are.
There's all to explore,
but all is still and silent
so we make...
I have had DP chronically for four years. I wrote this song to at least make some sort of sense of it.
this morning i got out of bed
a funny feeling in my head
like something there was out of place
I couldn't recognize my face
the air was cold but I felt numb
I couldn't feel it in my slum
I have written a poem which I think describes what I am feeling these days as best as I can. Please let me know what you think.
As eyes stare at the rain, they lie
A shell they detect, yet is despised
Laughter the eyes hear but nothing is felt
Orbiting the shoulders the Universe...