Avast in a mind of semantic realities;
My face seems wrought
With past pulling pains
People tell me I'm
Stricken
With
Bitter
Nature
But by chance
If you took another glance
My distant glued trance
Is in fact resignation
To a time irritation.
To be at home
Have will as my own
Fear nothing that awaits
Break free of restraints
Banish binds of complaints
And become my own...
Author notes
I found this poem on a piece of paper covered in dust, at the bottom of my draw. I hope I haven't posted it before
Adding your comment:
