Submit your work, meet writers and drop the ads. Become a member
May 11
Crowded streets, alive with a rhythm
That moves too fast for me.
I carefully weave through a town for the artists
Who need someone to be,
And recede into a quiet place;

A crowded mind, sustaining an echo chamber
Fit for our times.
Surrounded by a thousand decisions
I look back at a life
Up on a pedestal.

Where I missed the signs in smiles and glances,
And hold out for those second chances
At the moments that I've missed;
Never lived.

(I) Detach from the dream disrupting the rhythm
That makes you you, and me?
Lost in time;
Compulsively collecting the moments
That made me want to be
In this quiet place to read

(Read) All the signs in smiles and glances;
I won't change the world discarding chances
To move on from when we lived,
But we'll live, we'll live, we'll live...

(I'll live)...through all the second-hand supposed answers
Composing poems in hopes of small advances
Towards the peace of mind I need
To find me again.

Crowded streets, alive with a rhythm
That moves too fast for me.
.
Leigh
Written by
Leigh  Dublin, Ireland
(Dublin, Ireland)   
165
   BR Dragos
Please log in to view and add comments on poems