a poem is starting to fester

another empty gesture as a poem is starting to fester

of youth so lost and wasted a life just barely tasted

the days i count so slowly years i felt so lowly

what i could have been lost in this chagrin

 

confused and lost between a place

no where to go

noone to face

pulled a part no way to win

what kind of mess

have i got in?

 

 

i enter the body politic

my words are true

though not so slick

 

you are who you are i am who i am

the rest is just internal spam

i am who i was but who will i be

it is who i am that is troubling me

i go through each day alive and unwell

sometimes just the emotions i try not to tell

i look all around a consciousness shrouded

lost in the unknown all cognizance clouded

a puppet of wishing what i cannot be

a tingling sensation a need to feel free

but freedom from what i ask myself often

afraid and still running away from my coffin

hello again to my old friend

my inner poem will never end

i have started something new

lilac is my favorite hue