I find it hard to make the time I need
To offer up my thoughts on love and life
The stress of such is overwhelming me
The irony is painfully alive
The days put weight upon my fragile frame
I fear that I might break if bent too far
And who can tell what happens on that day
Where life and love grow dangerously apart
And even now, with pen and muse in hand
My feelings and emotions can't escape
So, now, I back away from who I am
And write a severed man upon the page
For now, I back away from who I am
And write a tale about a broken man
Author notes
This is just a sonnet that flows out of me right now. I feel so stressed out right now, and I can barely function.
Thoughts?
Comments
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I like poems that express the author's emotions, and deign more on the honesty of the language, that doesn't mind eloquent oration yet has an unmannered bias on the jeopardy of its fame, but more of a positive delinquency on self fullfilment and more of an arbitrary stature and risk taking to it. Good job for meeting your criteria!
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