Chairs window pains and picture frames hold secrets
Misunderstood with tradition and verbs
Rifts creeks crevices and curves obey commands and surgically implant paranoia with bad words
I can see invisible people watching me hiding in the seams
While drums beat heavy from the rear of my twisted dreams
Naturally it’s the thing I wear
Everything is not always as beautiful as it may appear
I whisper truth to myself and pretend not to hear
Till poetry becomes aggressive and lines become smeared
Time has no expiration date and statute of limitations don’t exsist
Don’t ever get distracted it’s not always easy to resist
And I don’t write sweet poems
Thank you Kalabalu 😊
beautiful and powerful!
Thank you Audrine ❤
Nice poem, I don’t write much sweet poems either. Reality usually isn’t that sweet.
No it is not! Heading your way to read some of your not so sweet poetry 🙂
Thank you for commenting ❤
“…I whisper truth to myself and pretend not to hear.” This line got me. The act of being apt to talk to oneself is a plus. Only few will do that, and adhere to it.😊👌🏿
That self assessment can be grueling, thanks for visiting and the acknowledgement Richard ❤
Please, don’t mention! What is noteworthy, is worth our attention.😊🙏🏿
This is a banger!
Thank you Shun 😊
This poem is sweet 😀. Haha. I love the wisdom hidden within each line. Everything is not always ad it appears.
Haha, you found “It” hidden between the lines 🙂