I teeter on abashment day by day
and lift my chest along the way
though this was never a habit of mine
before the tides of age and time
had ripened me past the preferred date
and I sat alone in a stalemate
with my own idiosyncrasies to unfold
I now try to escape; this trap has grown old
my face now buried in its own waste
is pushing back and trying to erase
the mistaken route that became my theme
one year before, when I was too green.
No comments:
Post a Comment