At next daylight I will gladly lie
about whether or not I'm all right
Because the time for grief is short;
the sadness of others I must thwart.
We have been incorrectly groomed;
we cannot show each other our wounds.
So let the fraudulent smiles fly
I'll look you solidly in the eyes.
This is my singular resort.
Conceited rudeness I do not court.
Your condolences I wouldn't presume,
it is but a fleeting spate of doom.
YOU ARE READING
Sitting Here Thinking (2020-2022)
PoetryPoetry of varying subjects and construction, the second of three. Written while sitting anywhere, lost in thought about everything and anything. Accolades: #1 Thought Provoking 2/26/2020 #1 Self-Reflection 3/22/2020 #1 Creative Writing 7/24/2020 #3...
