What If?

It seems that l lose focus here and there, hard to concentrate, make sense at times. Thoughts lost in thoughts, sentences lost in words, whole poems lost in a dream that is "normal". What is normal? Never feeling loss? Never feeling hopelessness? A four bedroom house with a white picket dream out front? My "normal" is pain, both real and metaphorical. Without my dream, would I write this? Create prose? Pen a song? Dream a sane existence? No. Maybe it's not my dream at all. My words can help, heal and mend others. Wish this would of ever happened? Of course. Use my pain to help others and myself, certainly so. Maybe being "abnormal" is the normal I am dreaming for. This is the true poet's enigma. When "what if?" kills what pain will create.