I cannot seem to see as well
As selves deceased, I laid to rest
It is the law - bereft of sense
The hoarding thing - The passing guest
I envy you, o bygone self
The eyes you held - The words you kept
And now I hang - But where I hang
A place between - A place inept
Dec 23, 2018
Dec 23, 2018 at 4:52 AM UTC
I cannot seem to see as well
As selves deceased, I laid to rest
It is the law - bereft of sense
The hoarding thing - The passing guest
I envy you, o bygone self
The eyes you held - The words you kept
And now I hang - But where I hang
A place between - A place inept
A poem about one's past selves
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