The Maze
Walking through the room, everything seems strange.
Mysterious thoughts, scratching my head like a dog with mange.
Try to shoot down uneasy thoughts like targets in a gun range.
Imagine the future of music, Calvo doing lyrical rap on the grandest stage.
But these political cretens shoot down my dreams with a loaded 12 gauge.
Hoping this darkness is only just a rough phase.
I stand in the room and pause, I give a stern gaze.
Trying to leave this depression is like a half-dead rat trying to leave a maze.
Copyright © Caleb Calvo | Year Posted 2018
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