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Sam Tate
Poems
May 2019
Silent
Sometimes, the words donβt come.
The consistent stream of consciousness, ceases.
I am left with nothing to say.
There is a beauty in the broken mind.
Like an abandoned building taken by nature.
It is not that my mind does not work.
It is that it works too fast,
And I am left behind,
Scrabbling in the dust,
Desperately seeking a connection,
In the discarded fragments of thought.
I am fighting a losing battle.
I fear the white flag will soon arise.
And signal the end.
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Written by
Sam Tate
21/M/Kent, UK
(21/M/Kent, UK)
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