Claim to me that the world is flat,
tell me that in the box is a dead cat.
Show me that the left is right,
hide everything from my visual sight.
Whisper the truth while yelling lies,
convince me that it isn't what it implies.
Backward walk forwardly towards behind,
of my reflection make me wanting it blind.
Tired I am of being twisted to be turned,
being told to forget all I've learned.
Lines curved into angles displayed straight,
calmness defines it's intentions too late.
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Author:
Maplespal (Pseudonym) (
Offline) - Published: December 1st, 2025 16:32
- Category: Unclassified
- Views: 8
Offline)
Comments1
A wonderful poem of refusing to give up what one knows. A lovely work about change and sticking with what one knows. A nice balance in this work
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