A Transitional Event/Period

I tried to reach out for help, but I don’t see a guiding hand

Everyone is caught up in the superficial drama of life’s constant demands
There is no one here to rescue me; they’re too sustained by their own lives
Small talk fills the air like smoke stacks, but no conversation cuts through the surface like knives
So people only see the success, the hard work, and the smile
Not knowing that every night I sleep and the tears from my eyes transform my pillow into the Nile
No one knows my life has changed drastically in the past year
So I suck up the pain and my eyes quiver as they fight back the tears.
The past passes and I’m hoping that the memories don’t become faded
And although I replay these memories, I never will become jaded
From these images in my mind. They will always have persistence
Because my memories forge the reality that my being wishes to exist in.
I’m told the present is a present and to be consumed by it’s presence
But the past gives me an abundance of satisfaction like birthday presents
So I’d rather have a time machine like H.G. Wells
To travel to where my mom is alive, my dad isn’t sad, and everything is well
But there’s no way I can go to the past and be there forever
Because life doesn’t work this way, so I’m forced to believe that never
Is the only answer to my questions of when.
Time doesn’t exist for my thoughts or feelings in this world of sin.
So a state of dejection is what constantly embraces me.
And I try to race away from the grief that chases me
Like mice and criminals flee from cats and cops
But I can’t keep up the pace, so I’m consumed when I stop
And the peace and stillness that my mind irks for
Vanishes, but yet the desire I can’t ignore
So I reach out one more time for someone to help me through
But the help doesn’t come, and I still cry over you.