my post (2) (5)

What shall I say
While you’re not around
Whom should I call to
When incapable to make a sound

I was given the keys
But not shown the doors
Travelling with only mysteries
Tolerating peace—eluding wars

My mind the boundless sentinel
The body an emaciated machine
What lies in-between is experimental
A land beyond the seen

I look for no ripostes
I strive for only nihility
For there have been many with hopes
Many less with any capability

Some say I have fought bravely
With sanities so clear
And still yet tremendously poorly
Have I wondered without fear

Some emotions become cursed
So I became a cursed man
I have observed the finest—the worst
Of this intellects land

My body an emaciated machine
All these wiry memories
Never realizing what it wishes to be
This body—this mind—and their histories

Constantly colliding
Rarely abiding
All that I have seen
An apathetic emaciated machine

About G.Edward Smith

A stranger in a strange land...
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