The Aftermath
What I allow,
What I brood over,
What I give freeway,
This tender shoot,
Green and fragile,
Sprouting,
Becomes a huge tree,
Wide girth,
Thick branches,
These spread in
different cardinal directions,
Forming a gigantic canopy,
This infiltrates my sane thoughts,
This encroaches on my tranquil flow,
Dark and murky beneath the surface,
I wrestle with my thoughts,
I battle with my mind,
It’s taking every ounce of strength,
I’m under its weight,
I provided the fertile ground.
May 3, 2022.
Copyright © Thompson Emate | Year Posted 2022
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