The fluidity of my life trickles on
Uncontrolled chaos arises like the dawn
I try my best to find a way to the top
Everywhere I look there is always a stop
People look but they do not want to see
They do not want to look at the reality of me
The cracks in the mirror always tells the truth
My last years are foretold by my youth
What I was is what I am and always will be
A living branch torn from a long dead tree
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Author:
The Depressed 1 (
Offline) - Published: January 7th, 2022 03:50
- Comment from author about the poem: Just some words that popped in my head....
- Category: Sad
- Views: 7
Offline)
Comments1
'I try my best to find a way to the top'
try removing that second line
out of your poetic mantra of life,
see if it helps any, maybe?
or rather, more productively
replace the word 'the top' with 'forward'
maybe your shoulder's
will feel a little lighter, that way..
(thanks for sharing
such an intriguing read,
forgive me
if you feel my words, were rude
in any way
I meant no disrespect)
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