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Graff1980
Poems
Apr 2020
Untitled 468
There is a melody here
made unclear
by the clutter of
collecting stuff,
and though I can’t play guitar,
I can still whistle
white hearted tunes
to turn sour silent hours
into less ghastly
beasts of reflection.
So, this is just a little bit of
talk therapy,
in the form of
stream of conscious poetry.
Written by
Graff1980
43/M/Springfield Illinois
(43/M/Springfield Illinois)
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Bogdan Dragos
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Cloudydaze
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Graff1980
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