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ryan-clarkPoems
It is hard to grasp the stars, when you stare at the dirt; and only see your calloused hands. You look forward; yet see nothing. You look behind and feel regret. Your body Your mind Tired There is no sense of direction There is no inspiration starring upon your calloused hands You, *** and bang against the grain, rambling on; Not knowing if you move, Forward or Reverse. Time doesn't stand Only your task at hand starring upon your calloused hands. Friends and family are just a luxury. Soon they will be gone, leaving you, to grind away... Again. The task is complete; Looking down to see Nothing ... but your winkled hands.
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Feb 10, 2015
Feb 10, 2015 at 1:44 AM UTC
Calloused
It is hard to grasp the stars, when you stare at the dirt; and only see your calloused hands. You look forward; yet see nothing. You look behind and feel regret. Your body Your mind Tired There is no sense of direction There is no inspiration starring upon your calloused hands You, *** and bang against the grain, rambling on; Not knowing if you move, Forward or Reverse. Time doesn't stand Only your task at hand starring upon your calloused hands. Friends and family are just a luxury. Soon they will be gone, leaving you, to grind away... Again. The task is complete; Looking down to see Nothing ... but your winkled hands.
Not my fav., but I'm trying not to loose inspiration. This is a fee form
#bleak#life#sorrow#regret#dark#mournful
ryan-clark
Written by
ryan-clark
American
Feb 10, 2015
Feb 10, 2015 at 1:44 AM UTC
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