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Can I feel the warmth of living,
not mourning,
Oh please not today
Can I still hear the soothing vibes
those jolly chimes relay?
Disc playing in an indestructible rhythm
on replay,
Even now I felt like a little child
rushing to play.
On the couch
laying a visitor
appeared unannounced,
Wearing a mask printed
on a label mispronounced;
Drinking liquor sitting comfortably at risk,
Wait —Am I moving freely,
working at whisk?
Today, I–
I encountered bonds
with limits I couldn't break,
Sorrounded by hungry beast
that makes my hands shake;
Rolling in pain on an inclined steep,
Distrupted by nightmares
prompting me not to sleep.
Exhausted, I might be resting
but not today,
Not until I could ride on rocking swing
crying out being gay.
YOU ARE READING
𝐌𝐢𝐫𝐫𝐨𝐫 𝐈: 𝑴𝒆𝒂𝒏𝒅𝒆𝒓𝒊𝒏𝒈
Poetry𝐴 𝑝𝑜𝑒𝑚 𝑓𝑜𝑟 𝑚𝑒𝑎𝑛𝑑𝑒𝑟𝑖𝑛𝑔 𝑠𝑜𝑢𝑙𝑠 𝑤𝑎𝑙𝑘𝑖𝑛𝑔 𝑜𝑛 𝑡ℎ𝑒 𝑑𝑖𝑠𝑖𝑛𝑡𝑒𝑔𝑟𝑎𝑡𝑒𝑑 𝑙𝑖𝑛𝑒𝑠 𝑜𝑓 𝑙𝑖𝑓𝑒. 𝐌𝐞𝐚𝐧𝐝𝐞𝐫𝐢𝐧𝐠 :𝑎 𝑤𝑖𝑛𝑑𝑖𝑛𝑔 𝑝𝑎𝑡ℎ 𝑜𝑟 𝑐𝑜𝑢𝑟𝑠𝑒. Life is a labyrinth full of intricate passageways, b...
