Conundrum
All she ever wanted to do was write poetry
Yet she spread her legs like wings
hoping that the heavens were in sight
Thinking that the pen was a cane
because she was crippled from mind down
but wasn't allowed to have a handicapped pass
so she was left to be misunderstood
her face couldn't speak the volumes her poetry did
That's why she never took took off that mask
She had an imagination deeper than pockets
yet sold out every day for that golden silence
A conundrum of perceptions
tried to diagnose her those ill thoughts she kept on a leash
Until the day she took them for a walk
No one was ready.
Subscribe to:
Post Comments (Atom)
No comments:
Post a Comment