Being Petulant
Being Petulant
Written: by Tom Wright
January 2015
My mirror projects the face of an angry man,
One that stress is exhausting as rapidly as it can.
I exist in a place, now believing, I don’t belong,
Each day, is a repeat, of a familiar sad song.
I know it isn’t others but the problem is with me,
I can’t make things the way I’d have them to be.
So in aloneness I gaze hinder just to reminisce,
Until reality returns and pleasant thoughts I dismiss.
Copyright © Tom Wright | Year Posted 2019
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