The hands of time's cold fingers
Wrap themselves around you
You thought you had enough of it
But there's never enough of time
A year ago you lived simply
Head in a haze as you play day and day
But today as you buy the house
As she hands you the test
You realize things will never be the same
The boxes are packed and the names are picked
Twenty one years for life to truly start
Looking into her eyes, you have responsibility now
No time, no drive for flowery words
A phase of me is ending, a certain kind of suicide
Is it ego to compare to Ziggy?
A farewell though I'm still here
The death of persona
Don't fret, it's not my true end
It's just that the ink has run dry, my mind's a dead pen
It's only Garner that's going
My final poem, farewell and good night
- 8/2/21
YOU ARE READING
Garrulous
ПоэзияA collection of poems based around whatever was running through my mind at the time. Whether it be my life experiences or just a dumb idea I thought of. Feel free to hop around to whatever poem catches your eye, they vary widely in tone and theme. I...
