Psychic Void
I'm between the devil and the deep sea.
From the grabs of stress, I wish to be free.
Flaws, like storms, uproot me from existence.
Moments move like streams with no resistance.
With sloth and pride, my specks of soul are foiled.
I wash my linens. They seem to get soiled.
I thirst for care, concern, and compassion.
Why do jars of hemlock provoke passion?
I cry like a child that's dropped in a pit.
My life has been like garbs that are ill-knit.
Alone I sail on deep seas in cracked boats.
My mind, like an ant on a dried leaf, floats.
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.
