Grief Grips Grim
Grief grips me grim with her handcuffs invisible,
Chief Cop she may be as she stuffs me in her remand,
Brief barely is her self-proclaimed band of friendship,
Relief absent I am stranded, I can’t anymore stand.
Fired up to free from her shackles I work hard,
Tired and troubled I tackle her with my bag of tricks;
Retired I have no desire to break free from her as I stare
Uninspired with Google results that need a million clicks.
Writing Prompt- Let's Write a Lento- Poetry Contest
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Copyright © Sathya Babu | Year Posted 2020
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