diamonddagger

The Air So Oddly Foul

what about the days
when you just can't get there
when the sun dries up the mud
and the wind blows through your hair

but you can't breathe
the air so oddly foul
what do you do now
with head wrapped in a towel

capture pleasantries
of life itself
how can you breathe
tormented in stealth

what about the painful days
empty as a void
when no one seems to see you
or am I paranoid

on schedule, things move faster
things that I seek
the whims in my soul grow vaster
down the road which I speak

Oh, the everything is right
and the everything is wrong
we can take it in its reverie
and put it in our song

 

Comments1

  • baj-a

    you said it all! there are times I feel invisible and even ask doesn't anyone see me? people will walk right into me and not say sorry or anything and keep walking as if they hadn't done it. as if i was the only one to notice. yes, there are days that go perfectly and then the ones where everything is wrong follow :-). enjoyed this poem!



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