Lyretry

My Post (36)

Grieving—deceiving—believing
A concoction of trepidations
Am I anywhere—was I anything
Caught on the swing of hesitations

Considering from round the corner
Anticipating a likely consequence
A stranger in a strange land—a foreigner
Once I’m flawed and ever since

What sounds satisfying
I frame myself in apathy
hard to articulate living from dying
a silver-tongued fool without empathy

Looking headlong I am optimistic
Ten seconds later I am horrified
Why this parable of absent instinct
Unleashed emotions so undignified

Sweeping swans with elegance
Extraordinary heights—mind-numbing lows
Poorly I choose—life in decadence
I plant the seed, but no jubilation grows

I have seen her many times over
Watching her drift across the room
My memories stop—time is slower
More probable doom than a conversation bloom

Caught on the swing of hesitations
Years have been lost—no sanctifications
Caught on the swing of hesitations
A group unto myself—no explanations

About G.Edward Smith

A stranger in a strange land...
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