Tags:
  • Sadness

    Out

    Small glimpses and tiny peeps
    Are all you get of me.
    I cannot share
    What I do not own -
    I am not yet master of my faculties,
    I am not yet he who is complete.
    My mind won't contain my curiosity,
    My soul wanders incessantly....
    Only my heart,
    In the narrowest valves,
    Seems to give any answers.
    But these are merely hollow vespers;
    Ethereal referendums; Petitions
    Presented in daylight to a sleepy magistrate -
    And until the defense is prepared to cross-examine,
    A further continuance will be requested.

    Poem Comments

    (0)

    Please login or register

    You must be logged in or register a new account in order to
    leave comments/feedback and rate this poem.

    Login or Register

    Poetry is when an emotion has found its thought and the thought has found words.

    Robert Frost (1875-1963) American Poet.

    Psycler314’s Poems (5)

    Title Comments
    Title Comments
    just lovin 0
    Kona 0
    e-choe 0
    Out 0
    slammed 0