Mountain View

I hate when I sink low.

I’m in a valley;

not a mountain for miles.

Where I go is lonely;

only tears behind the smile.

I wish you could hear me

screaming from my crippled lungs.

But you’re just on that mountain today

and your head is high, not hung.

Tell me how is the view?

Is the air much crisper?

Tell me what you do?

Is the grass much thicker?

I’d say I’m not the jealous type,

but I’ve dreamt about being in your shoes.

I’ve wanted to sit high on that mountain,

feeling like I had everything to lose.

Down here I have nothing,

and it’s easy to fade away.

Down here I’m suffering,

and I just repeat the days.