Desperation in Desire
My emotions are not my own,
Yet I feel them as if they are,
Overwhelming and absolutely there,
Hard in my stomach,
Painful and contrite.
I ball my fists and wait for it to pass,
But it never does,
It coils deeper in my belly,
Until I can't breathe,
Grabbing hold of my heart,
And threatening to squeeze.
Poetry is either something that lives like fire inside you or else it is nothing, an empty formalized bore around which pedants can endlessly drone their notes and explanations.
Unknown Source
| Title | Comments | Submitted |
|---|---|---|
| Title | Comments | Submitted |
| Invisible Scars | 0 | 01/07/2010 |
| Desperation in Desire | 0 | 07/07/2009 |
| Morgan | 1 | 04/17/2009 |
| Hunger pangs | 0 | 02/13/2009 |
| Deception | 2 | 02/13/2009 |
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