It seems most of what I have done has become useless,
In hindsight, gazing upon the past.
The notion of remorse is fleeting,
Though the feeling sure travels fast.
I wouldn't be so certain though, as with many things -
One is spoken, and another completed.
And through lunacy in my prison,
I lay cold, bloodied and defeated.
Seen too much, heard too much, almost enough to ensure insanity.
People are designed to be this way, unique.
What matters to you will not always matter to me.
So do you desire to fail, or do I wish to succeed?
Alas, the chilled dew calls again the morning of glory;
I along with hens and sheep arise to begin my journey.
Diverge many paths do, indeed.
And among them all, I'm not too sure which one I'll be.
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Author:
Nicholas Browning (
Offline) - Published: February 27th, 2019 17:44
- Comment from author about the poem: Hats off to you if you understand the message, chaps.
- Category: Unclassified
- Views: 25
Offline)
Comments2
And now you wrote a fine poem - so not entirely useless! (heehee).
Little late but thanks my good sir!
So, a use-ful poem!
Yes, some days I feel purposeful and others, I want to run screaming into the woods... Either way here we all are-- and I really like your write...
Thank you my Feathered guest. As you said, here we all are. Living the best we can. Thank you for stopping by, and I'm flattered that you enjoyed!
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