Intimidation
The gray sky stifles me
with it's thick fog
of underlying epistles,
causing my soul to shudder
I feel as heavy as a mountain,
but I'm only a molehill
on the edge of earths bend
my hands, he says
are too small
to write big
so I stick to the surface
and scribe
of faint occurrences
that define naught
because he's fearful
of my poems truth
Copyright © Melissa Wadkins Patterson | Year Posted 2008
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