Submit your work, meet writers and drop the ads. Become a member
May 2018
We are all just broken messes, aren't we?

Just weird abstractions of people,
Clinging to the material and unnatural
Thrills and chills of being,
In some odd hope that we will wake up
Rejuvenated and refreshed
And with a mind so clean
And pure
And sure of ourselves,
But we are really just lost
In our own self-constructed mazes of
Complications and complexity.
III
Written by
III  Chicago
(Chicago)   
375
   rained-on parade
Please log in to view and add comments on poems