An Unfinished Book
An unfinished book lies
Rampant on my shelf
It contains unfinished versions
Of essays on myself
The unturned pages make me nervous
The unread words haunt my dreams
The list of what I have to read
Life is cruel
And dust collects as shadows crawl
Across the emptiness of what has become
Of my wall
Built up over the years with
Mortar but overcome with ivy
And weed
breathing, breeding, seething,
seething through my veins,
only less alive than they should be
Post Comments
Poetrysoup is an environment of encouragement and growth so only provide specific positive comments that indicate what you appreciate about the poem. Negative comments will result your account being banned.
Please
Login
to post a comment
Turn off ads, get more exposure for your poetry, and get more features with a
Premium Membership.
