Sour Grapes
In the never ending dream I keep walking
Through the insufficient scheme I keep talking
It’s a crying shame, still not quite enough
You may call it lame, call it boring stuff
In the morning street on a shady sidewalk
I move on whispering inner monologue
Wouldn’t be surprised if you do the same
We’ve got something to alter this lose-lose game
In the fading dream, that doesn’t fade too much
There’s a hidden door, that I can’t unlatch
But I tend to suspect it’s an exit door
Must be cold outside, colder than before
So this narrow passage leads to square I know
And I’m welcomed in again, where I used to go
And the waiter turns up with a tray of grapes
Offering a complimentary aftertaste.
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.
