I often feel frac/
tured
As though I’ve
f
a
l
l
e
n
Between
The
Cracks
Of
Memory-
Like a broken bottle
Left
Forlornly in a wood,
Or
A faded,
Sun-bleached
Photograph;
Decaying
In an empty house-
When you’ve withdrawn
Upon,
within,
around
Yourself, so much
That even the dust stagnates-
How can you expect
Anyone
To intrude
Into that self-imposed solitude?
Especially,
If you,
Yourself,
Have no clue how to break it?
The bell has lost it’s clapper,
A mallet without a gong,
Tongueless mouth gaping wide-
Emitting only a feeble moan,
Easily dismissed as the wind,
Whipping around the eaves,
and through the trees.
Feb 24, 2017
Feb 24, 2017 at 3:46 AM UTC
I often feel frac/
tured
As though I’ve
f
a
l
l
e
n
Between
The
Cracks
Of
Memory-
Like a broken bottle
Left
Forlornly in a wood,
Or
A faded,
Sun-bleached
Photograph;
Decaying
In an empty house-
When you’ve withdrawn
Upon,
within,
around
Yourself, so much
That even the dust stagnates-
How can you expect
Anyone
To intrude
Into that self-imposed solitude?
Especially,
If you,
Yourself,
Have no clue how to break it?
The bell has lost it’s clapper,
A mallet without a gong,
Tongueless mouth gaping wide-
Emitting only a feeble moan,
Easily dismissed as the wind,
Whipping around the eaves,
and through the trees.
