i can never keep my lenses clean
my vision is spotted with dirt
i stomp on old clothes
and trinkets i promised to treasure
when walking from bed to wardrobe.
i'll tidy in a month from now.
i might even clean.
but 3 months from now
i'll be exactly here
all over again.
i'm not proud
to be friendly with my enemy
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Author:
Salem (Pseudonym) (
Offline) - Published: July 23rd, 2024 20:15
- Comment from author about the poem: Some days i can't even get out of bed.
- Category: Unclassified
- Views: 21
Offline)
Comments2
Some days I think the bed is like a magnet
One step at a time... consider it a win if you do get out of bed, and if you brush your hair
Keep going!!!
This could be metaphoric and if so a deep poem indeed. If not metaphoric it still poses a philosophical and psychological question.
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