All I Got Was Sand

What happens when fear ties your tongue together
into little knots that gag you into tears?
When do you wake up from the illusion and realize
your shoelaces are already tied
and the training wheels have been off for awhile?
When you worry you don't know what to do with your
hands and they end up in your hair
-like fuck this shit and this world-
I can't take the suspense anymore.
I want to breathe in the summer and fall
again and watch my world be built
into a castle.
But
the romance novels are all bullshit-
fuck the roses and the horses with the wind in your hair
as a knight wraps his strong arm
around your waist as you ride off into the sunset
the world is your oyster-
and all I got was fucking sand.


Think I was a bit angry? Yea, just some more therapy poetry. Read and Review? Love constructive critisism!

Thanks and enjoy.

-Seras