What?

When I think of those that have gone before
My mind screams out No more, no more
But when I find the memories gone
My mind screams out hold on hold on.

Some place in the middle is where I reside
No beginning and no end, just some place to hide
From who are we sneaking to see but not be seen
Those “ones” we love and hate in our dreams

Will crying reconcile with smiles and glee
Will enslavement come to terms with that which is free
Can I ever know happiness and sadness in one
Does terror ever go home for the night with fun

I have died many times for the ones that are gone
But I keep coming back, I must hold on
Hold on to a life that is fleeting at most
So I’ll sit on a blue chair with yellow shoes on my feet.