Double, double, toil and trouble.
The steady surface hides a bubble.
One part works, the other plays.
One part runs, the other stays.
Part depressed, part amused,
Everyone remains confused.
How can two exist in one?
How can darkness hide the sun?
What the hell is wrong with me?
Chains of anger bind the free.
Ok, that’s fine. The way it goes.
It’s better mainly one side shows.
No one could understand what’s real,
Both parts make up the way I feel.
Show the pain, the somber side.
Easier the “good” to hide.
Keeping expectations low.
For days when there’s no joy to show.
But every now and then, I see
The part I wish was more of me.
The loving, happy, carefree part.
Deep within the icy heart.
If I can somehow find a way
To make that part grow and stay.
Then maybe in that burst of fun
The two would finally become one.