In trying times, the magic potion is mesmeric
Though its eventual consequences are barbaric
Difficult to stay away from the easy way out
Those crutches have an ability to silently shout
To call out, to tempt like the evil sirens of the sea
Singing that without them I am less than I can be
I apologize to my body for believing the lies
I apologize to my mind for crafting its demise
An attempt shall be made to give up this ghost
To demons, my body shall no longer be a host
I embark on this unstimulated, silent, boring path
Hoping to succeed and escape my body's wrath
YOU ARE READING
Observer I
PoetryThis poetry book is about everything and anything that I observe in life. My mind wanders to a trillion different places & my curiosity is never ending. This book is a little sneak peak into some of the thoughts & observations that I have made & wil...
