Every thing is beautiful, everything is fine.
You finally have a meaning: something to do with your time.
When all of a sudden, you stop caring.
The world goes from white to black, from light to dark, from good to bad.

Your life crashes down,
Like an iron curtain,
Or a lead Hindenburg,
Screaming protest as it burns.

You don’t land on a pillow,
And you don’t land on a cloud.
You don’t land on the water –
Don’t get caught by the crowd.

Though people are all around you,
They crush but will not comfort.

The glass bubble that surrounds you loses it’s rainbow hue,
As it bursts into 52 shards of brittle dew.

When you slide down the incline,
And soar off the edge,
The weightlessness of falling,
Fills your star struck head.

Then you crash into the crevice floor,
Sometimes underwater,
Like hitting your head on the swimming pool floor,
You lie there in the crater.

Lying, staring upwards to a small and distant light above me,
The place that I called “happiness” is where I used to be.
It’s easiest to see your faults when using eyes in the back of your head,
Hindsight is to foresight, what life is to the dead.

If I were my own, this is how I’d die:
Lost, alone, and comfort less with tears running from my eyes,

But, Someone loves me still,
Though I’ve only stolen and killed,
All that I’ve been given.

Jacob’s ladder descends to earth,
But, I can not reach it,
Till I have pulled myself,
From my selfish pit.

And, when at last I come,
Upon this highway’s base,
I’ll try to climb it rung by rung,
Till I have run my race.