I used to write to escape.
Writing served as a means to get by.
When the world was too dark,
The light sat by the cursor.
The dream was simple,
One day be happy.
Find that smile that isn’t forced.
For I already had writing,
I just needed the rest.
The rest would complete the picture.
Then writing can go hand in hand.
Well that day has come.
It’s the day that I longed for.
It’s the day where all I want,
Is to sit and feel in reality.
I want every ounce of life.
I want my wife,
I want my future,
I want it all.
This euphoric zest of no pain.
Then what is this?
As I sit behind that flashing cursor,
It screams for attention.
It acts like I betrayed it.
The pain no pain,
I no longer need to escape.
But what about what we had?

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About Neil,

When Neil isn’t writing poetry, he enjoy a glass of whisky next to his two Greyhounds in Mississippi.