I don’t own things, but
things own me;
this future corpse
ain’t mine, you see?
The places I go, to and fro
aren’t even there;
the thoughts I think? Imaginary.
Another stake to bear.
And so I float through daily life
weighed down by mundane gloom
and sit amidst my plain decor
in my vain suburban tomb.
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Author:
Fränz Müller (
Online) - Published: April 28th, 2026 21:56
- Category: Unclassified
- Views: 26
- Users favorite of this poem: sorenbarrett
Online)
Comments2
heyyy I live there and truly beautiful!!!!!
Aw, I know! 😁. I picked the title as a bit of a non-sequitur. Thanks for reading the poem!
I love the flow and rhyme of this poem but more so the message given a fave and by the way I lived in Oklahoma for four years and there is not much to see there.
It’s got desolate beauty 😁
One could say that on the level
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