Waking up 
With signs that tell me  
To leave. 
One last caressing touch, 
A mistaken love poem,
A touch of musical agony. 
Oxymoron is a new game. 
Life seems like a compromise. 
Take away the lights of delight,
I am a cave out of sight. 
I question with a mind 
That has a life ahead 
To live like a residue of fame. 
A game to despise 
Is a true feeling,
A long walk to conquer 
For happiness. 
A war of inner design,
A blister of hope, 
Waiting to burst.  
Raw feelings 
Are dusty play, 
Which keeps life 
Authentic,
Because life is 
Not devoid of pain.