Summer is here and I'm a puddle,
forced to engulf the road run-off pollutants
from other people's journeys.
I try to be humble,
and think of a judgemental aunts
speech and thoughts on which pollutant is the least bitter.
I pick up the guitar,
join an art class
and write more poems.
-~*~-
Finally finished school and I've never felt so full and empty all at once. This was a poem that I couldn't finish after the first stanza because the imagery of a polluted road and a puddle of fresh rainwater didn't feel right to continue.
YOU ARE READING
New World on Fire
PoetryPoetry is not really a new world for me, considering I've been analysing poems since I was eleven years old in an academic setting. Now, I want to use the skills and the life experiences to write poetry and share it with the world. It's an ever grow...
