The Standing Waters

Ground-is-like-a-sponge-after-2nd-snowiest-March-2-1

We are all entrapped

In the unpredictable prisons

Of our insecurities and wishes.

She walks a different walk

in foreign tongues she talks

Every single day,

She is a different shade of grey

They hate her for the reasons

Of her unstable treasons.

 

But that’s just her.

 

They have their issues too.

I saw a man happy once

Next moment he was found

Shouting in a pitch unbound.

 

Then there are others

Much much worse.

All smiles,

Sweet words

in piles.

And a bitter taste,

In my mouth is raised.

 

I saw them all,

Yesterday.

With a ball of ideas,

They played.

In a field of thorns, flowers aside.

Their goal was to commit suicide.

 

You ask of me?

But I am just fine

Far above the imaginary line

Of wrong and right.

I have seen it all,

Felt it all.

And I no have height,

From which to fall.

 

My wishing well,

Is so empty,

There is no space in it,

For heaven or hell.

A blank page;

No story to tell.

There is nothing to dread,

From someone so dead.

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3 thoughts on “The Standing Waters

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