It’s the first and last time for everything.
It’s the first and last time for nothing.
How do I live in a world where I show love
While keeping a distance,
By keeping my distance?
How do I reconcile this situation?
A man lies in disturbed sleep,
In a stairwell
Just below street level.
Below everything.
Below, beneath, me.
I want to stop and talk to him.
I keep walking.
Neither my first,
Nor my last,
Time for nothing.
Tuesday, December 22 2020
I am struggling to hold it together.
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Author:
Nundu (
Offline) - Published: June 2nd, 2022 04:53
- Comment from author about the poem: I am not sure that this is even a poem. On that day, I was walking to University of Maryland Medical Centre to get a COVID test when I observed what I describe. By the time I got there I could barely contain the panic attack that had been quickly descending upon me with every step and every thought. As I sat waiting, I wrote it down to try and stop from spinning out of control.\r\n\r\nThis is the first time that I have shared my, let\\\'s call them, observations. I suppose today is my first time for this thing. I am more than happy with critiques and any sort of comments!
- Category: Unclassified
- Views: 14
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