deepundergroundpoetry.com
Sorry.
I grew up feeling so displaced
Hands in my mouth, head cloudy in a maze
Some of you, still, have never known
The thing you read now breathing off the page
Sorry.
Your lost kin is a thespian
Dragged through the past, across and back again
Chemical reaction constant,
Splattered mess on roadsides pedestrian
Sorry.
I write late about our cadence
This inconsistent woven countenance
I'm not your martyr- never was
Is what I would say, in damned elegance.
Sorry.
Hands in my mouth, head cloudy in a maze
Some of you, still, have never known
The thing you read now breathing off the page
Sorry.
Your lost kin is a thespian
Dragged through the past, across and back again
Chemical reaction constant,
Splattered mess on roadsides pedestrian
Sorry.
I write late about our cadence
This inconsistent woven countenance
I'm not your martyr- never was
Is what I would say, in damned elegance.
Sorry.
Published 20th Jan 2023
Author's Note
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