the glass is thick but still I place my hand upon the pane
the world whizzes by like a galaxy of shooting stars
my head spins, reeling from the flurry of sound and light
shrinking to the dark that tends the fear
singing to myself of times gone by and things that used to be
now fade away like the wisps of fog on the horizon
still in the sadness, safe behind the glass
etched with memories and pain
alone in the sadness, safe behind the glass
and if I had to choose,
more prison than cocoon ~
Copyright ©2011 Angela Schofield
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