Focus,
Sounds like hocus pocus
Snap, Houdini flips his wand
Flops, a thoughts
Drops, a note ,a measure , a key
I can hardly breath
See, I can see
What you can't see I can see
Maybe the Hindus were right your see
Light, brought to the plight
The great pretentious plight of my might
A mighty mouse
A leaky house
Course you see it now
This thing call focus
It's all just hocus pocus
YOU ARE READING
Symptoms
PoetryPoetry. Love. Happiness. Sadness. Depression. Guilt. Regret. Struggle and Confliction. We may all be breathing, we may all have our hearts beating. But these are our vital signs. These are symptoms that prove we're alive.
