The Incomplete State Poem, by Lewis O’Carroll, at My poetic side

There are things inside me that are alive

With a mind of its own

My hands moved up to choke my throat

Before the woman that’s my crone

I was crowned a king

But I’m living like a peasant

My tears soaked my face when I cried alone

Those explosions aren’t pleasant

I can shed a bit of that head

Hanging upside down in the tree

While I dream of a comforting girl

Echoed from another world

The unfavorable circumstance:

My sister never cared much about me

I feel wasted and degraded

I’ll shrink myself to fit

Before I slide down the Sycamore tree

Railing and trailing in bits

I’ll keep making rhymes throughout this time

One’s a lonely number despite the three

And I’ll never let go

Mark my words on your phone

Of what matters to me

Comments +

To be able to comment and rate this poem, you must be registered. Register here or if you are already registered, login here.

The Incomplete State