The cacophony of the day
pounds on the ear drums,
bringing static to the brain,
scrambling the soul.
Conditioned so by the bustle
are the tired working bodies
that when the thunder yet settles
anxiety seeks the lightning.
When the din of the dawn
flips the weary from their beds,
how long until the uproar
renders the spirit deaf?
Awaiting a crescendo
that may well never peak;
just the shrill discord
wracking our existences.
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...
