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
Thank you for reading.
All writing remains the property of the author. Don't use it for any purpose without their permission.
likes 1
reading list entries 0
comments 0
reads 89
Commenting Preference:
The author encourages honest critique.
