In places I go where no other has been
In times when melancholy begins to set in
Rather it is mistaken by others as sadness
On my path to the place
In my quiet heart
Dried tears upon my pillow
Mistaken for tears of pain
When they are really tears of joy
Still-it must all be concealed
Behind my eyes which see
Beyond the horizons of what others look at
Yet they do no see me
The noise in the streets evades me
I am there but not really here
Muddy colored clouds fill the grey skies
Into my heart which denies
All sadness from making its home
In the travels within my mind
Wherever I may roam
~Moses~
© 2010 Moses Lestz - All Rights Reserved
