Pushed and pulled,
An internal paradox.
It filters my words and actions.
If it lets you,
Will you notice?
And understand the cause?
If I let you,
Will you promise?
Allow me a second,
To gather my thoughts from the floor.
I scattered them to make sense of it.
Begrudgingly,
I to and fro,
Slipping between them like a comet in flight.
Like leaves from a dying tree,
They dance in my slipstream.
Allow me a second,
To gather my thoughts from the floor.
I scattered them there to make sense of it.
By Ben Jones
An internal paradox.
It filters my words and actions.
If it lets you,
Will you notice?
And understand the cause?
If I let you,
Will you promise?
Allow me a second,
To gather my thoughts from the floor.
I scattered them to make sense of it.
Begrudgingly,
I to and fro,
Slipping between them like a comet in flight.
Like leaves from a dying tree,
They dance in my slipstream.
Allow me a second,
To gather my thoughts from the floor.
I scattered them there to make sense of it.
By Ben Jones
1 comment:
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