The new week reeks of a familiar 'phase',
Turbulence, sadness, thoughts set ablaze—
I'm sinking again towards a familiar maze
Where death and his friends play and graze
I could scream but who listens anymore?
I could write but where's the inspiration?
It all seems to be pointing to the floor,
Falling fast with agitation!
Yet,
Here I am
Cooling amid the raging fire,
Brimming with what the people call desire—
And what do I do when the plot gets dire?
I fight and wrestle with a desire to rewire—
Myself to life, to something higher.
YOU ARE READING
A 100 For My Better Half
Poetry"Summer and warmth spilled from her eyes, Breaking my shell like metal on ice, I tried to ignore, yet I couldn't excise- The love in me that she enticed". Praise Frank This is an anthology to and for one who unconsciously opened a gate which was shu...
