Listen to poem:
Compelled
Compelled
David J Walker
The sad part of this obsession is
Knowing how unprofitable it will always be
Language leanings in different directions
Confessions of the soul count for nothing
A mornings reflection in vivid description
Serving only a fraction of lost and forgotten temptations
The torments of love yet unexplained
Colors unnamed
Secrets never revealed
Clouds proudly morphing into forms unformed
And forms of deformed and fearful imaginings
A sincere hope that the unknown is better than today
The poet puts on the hat of a mad vatic
and buries his face in his hands
compelled to see the future
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