Forever Unfinished
What if this was my last brew, blow,
last blathering scribbling,
unfinished, tragically abandoned
because of a faithless unforeseen?
Would I be content, or bent backwards?
What good would any high stilts do me then
and how many blind mice
must be interned
within a never ending last breath?
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.
