HomecomingOfChris

The old familiar feelings returns,
Bring the destruction of my world.
Taking the name of the weeping willow,
I stand precariously as once in the past.
From a distance, as a mountain in view,
I am strong and together through and through.
The closer he comes the more craggy and unsteady,
With rocks falling I become.
Professing my own stability I gave wasted words
Of how tears shed is water mindlessly wasted.
Now with no conscious control
I waist my own water.
Ashamed and disgusted my terror quickly turns to anger,
Anger not at the cause of terror,
But anger at my reaction.
How quickly I revert back to the old quivering low self
With its lack of self, respect, esteem, and
Missed good cheer of optimism.