I am a tiny speck,
a molecular body
in a capacious box
It won't let me go
or let me leave this place
Woe to me and to my foe
And to every marred trace
I became a threat,
to me,
to my beloved ones,
to everything around me
Sometimes I'm brave
Sometimes I'm scared
I can't help it but embrace
Everything, whether it's good or bad
sometimes I'm a superhero
sometimes I'm a victim
But an impulse spears again
To induce me to be an embryo
Or change before the cup reach its brim
Now I am ostensibly pallid
Like a fruit from an abandoned tree
Yielded to lies, covered with truth leaves
Sugarcoated with phrases and false compliments
Shaped into an uncanny entity
Surpassing the ordinary form of orneriness
Badly written like a fake truce
Sooner I will be ambushed
Thus it won't be no buoyancy
Even if they ask,
Is it lionized in your mind to be dismal?
Or did its ornaments convince you to be lunatic?
Albeit, It is merely a brief indulgence of my impulses.
YOU ARE READING
Flowers From The Old Tree
Poesia'I open my eyes more often to see beautiful things in ugly things because nowadays no one is appreciating the beauty in the ugliness.' This collection of poems is a pile of papers that were lost and mostly ripped off, i could really relate to the...
