I have a bag in which I keep my thoughts;
that bag is this book of bad poetry.
The flowers of my mind are rotten;
Their innocence, long forgotten.
[POETRY]
[RANDOM THOUGHTS]
[POEMS]
#5 in #anthology 6-June-2022
#7 in #poemcontest 10/3/23
The author...
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Never have I ever not felt this way; Trapped in this realm, night and day. The cry of a newborn calls from afar; My wish to draw nigh keeps me tethered.
The flames of my soul needs more coal; The hands that feed her is growing slow. The wheels of this train is rusting away; There's only so much that she can take.
Clouds are gathering in the distance; The sky is turning darker this instant. Is the night approaching like a traveller? Or is the rain withholding until summer?
As the sands of time are running out; I concoct a potion to clear my doubt. Till the hour draws nearer than ever; And my eyelids grow heavier and heavier.
Title: Flames of my soul Written by: Esther Omonigho Oziegbe
