Demeanor

I thought of summers

long ago into the past;

as I did I felt a gloom

wash over me so fast.

My head down I see

others who like me I

have my head where

I don’t look at my sky.

Pounding goes a tune

inside the part of me

I’ve gloom in a room

and it is all I can see.

My form matches us

as we walk down past

places we found joy

but nothing ever lasts.

The load you can bear

has rendered you lame;

where feet can’t travel.

A place there I’m same.

My form functioning I

contort me into a form

that is alien to a mind as

to me an eye conforms.

Judge me not my love

I have dived in chasms

that have chipped skin

away so I surpass them.

The void where we do

stare at it is so hollow.

So in my struggle I am

on a path hope follows.

It is one where it hides,

the hope I feel it inside;

a mountain it survives,

my past I try disguise.

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