Seeing the world through curved glass,
trapped
in the inevitable small circle around and around and around
waiting for handouts
that may not come
flakes that fall.
Desperate times make you
a bottom feeder
even through the murky green
of neglect
the vision via curved glass
distorted, though you know no different.
That headache that can never go away...
around
and around
and around
and around
until they forget to add flakes
and you die
and are flushed.
YOU ARE READING
Sweeping Winds and Rainbow Beginnings
PoetryThese are a few of my poems. I would prefer to take my time and try to sort the better ones out from the rubbish so it might take me a while to collect. I hope you can stop by and enjoy a poem or several. In poetry (good or bad) we express something...
