Dead Time. Poem by Ginny S.

sometimes i feel that music
is all the same
is all connected
is not original
anymore
and never was

sometimes i feel i am
a creature capable only of
ephemeral love
a rose, a prose that dies too soon
unless watered down by
the elusive

sometimes i feel like i am
a magnet to the unrequited
an outlet for the spited
a threshold for the uninvited
a dying light for the benighted

sometimes i look outside and wonder
what if i was all alone
would i be happy
or would i be terribly sad

sometimes i wonder
if my future will ever come
or if i will always be
stuck in the present