The revolving door spins swiftly, taking its passengers by surprise
With its transient metamorphosis. The foreign scenery is at first
exciting in its bold contrast, before boredom ages beauty and
Weathers it away until it's faded and ugly like the peeling paint
On an abandoned house.
Situations that caused tears, blood and agony become but foolish
Memories, as attention and perception shift to new situations
We gladly then sacrifice oursleves to.
Jan 29, 2014
Jan 29, 2014 at 1:45 AM UTC
The revolving door spins swiftly, taking its passengers by surprise
With its transient metamorphosis. The foreign scenery is at first
exciting in its bold contrast, before boredom ages beauty and
Weathers it away until it's faded and ugly like the peeling paint
On an abandoned house.
Situations that caused tears, blood and agony become but foolish
Memories, as attention and perception shift to new situations
We gladly then sacrifice oursleves to.
A poem I wrote on graduation day, I Go Back to May by Sharon Olds had been coming to thought that day.
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