Feeling a pull from within,
Reaching and missing,
A thought born from whispers.
The present Feeling like sand through fingers.
Dreams filled with laughter,
Nightmares shrouded in cries.
There's walls that I have seen,
Places that I have graced,
A feeling for which I hold no answers.
I mourn for not a past born from delusions,
I mourn in wistfulness,
A past forgotten with time.
-P.L