Hello Poetry
Submit your work and get some sparkles! Create free account
hamishianPoems
My thoughts spilling Into the hands and mouths of others A scattered page, Like a loose bolt Letting the red apples clutter the concrete With tiny shards of peel. No sense of place The scraps are allocated By the severity of the stain they leave behind. I wander through wet and murky streets Clouded over by years of regret, In order to pick them up.   Some are forgotten Others are mistaken for another’s when truly they were my own Or vis-versa. And I fight for every bit Chew my teeth out arguing. The trail grows cold the further back I fumble How many times has the tea stain been spent? How many years should I waste and lament Actions I have no control over. At least someone else is happy.
0
Sep 22, 2014
Sep 22, 2014 at 4:27 AM UTC
Election results.
My thoughts spilling Into the hands and mouths of others A scattered page, Like a loose bolt Letting the red apples clutter the concrete With tiny shards of peel. No sense of place The scraps are allocated By the severity of the stain they leave behind. I wander through wet and murky streets Clouded over by years of regret, In order to pick them up.   Some are forgotten Others are mistaken for another’s when truly they were my own Or vis-versa. And I fight for every bit Chew my teeth out arguing. The trail grows cold the further back I fumble How many times has the tea stain been spent? How many years should I waste and lament Actions I have no control over. At least someone else is happy.
hamishian
Written by
hamishian
Sep 22, 2014
Sep 22, 2014 at 4:27 AM UTC
Request permission to use this poem