shoo bop. bopp. er....tangled in my web of hurts
a mind of poison and gas
my thoughts clouded and spread thin into mist
doors locked in front of me, and i hold the key
but my eyes are blinded and its touch on my skin
just makes the ache worse
one by one i pass this corridor of rotting wood and splintered time
pacing back and forth, confused as to why i am trapped in this maze
the key begins to crumble in my wrinkled hand
time is fading and i am still pacing
when will my eyes open?
when will my hand grasp the power it always held?
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Nervous
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my poetry, lemon
both bitter and tart
you decide the taste of my art
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What lies behind us
And what lies before us
Are small matters compared to
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~Ralph Waldo Emerson~
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