As I sit here,
Alone,
Amungst a crowd,
Im sitting, waiting.
I think about,
What im doing here,
How I got here,
What I have done.
An envelope,
Pressed hard,
Against me,
In my jean pocket.
I reach for envelope,
As a deadly man,
Heads my way,
Head down,
Shoulders hunched.
He sits oppsite me,
An envelope,
In his hand,
Now in mine,
Mine in his.
He opens it,
Grunts in approval,
He's gone,
I do the same.
How did I become like this?
Craving,
What I can't have,
You can't buy it,
But I try.
A contest entry
- LOW LIFE CONTEST by Gerald Flagellation.
425 points, ended December 22, 2007, 13 entries
• next poem in this contest, remove from contest
what u think?
Comments
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I got bored after 2 spelling errors in the first 10 words. Do you have a fault in your computer or in your brain? Not that I care either way.
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he opens it,
grunts in approval,
he's gone,
i do the same.
what a truth you are touching here..so philosophical and so mystical as well..but yes this is life my friend..a thought provoking piece and making us to ponder about the depth of the life raised here..well done and the thought is quite powerful....well done...
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