The Riddle's Metaphors
I was running from a riddle's metaphors
In a house constructed without doors
I kept running into rooms where I had already been
Now the soles on my boots are wearing thin
Speeding up is the only option I've yet to try
Sanity has been obscured by my runner's high
An echoing noise I fear I shall hear forevermore
Are the sounds of salty tears peppering the floor
My mind's pencil was having trouble drawing breaths
And my tank was running on the vapors fuel had left
The slick saline solution that covered the ground
Ironically took its creator down
Slipping on a teardrop I landed next to the truth
Only to find that is was lacking couth
It's sophistication was riddled with holes
As if a chunk of swiss were at the controls
I ease towards the cheese on the set trap
I grab the holy truth and I hear a, SNAP!
____________________________________________
For the contest : I slipped on a teardrop and landed.....
Sponsored by : Cindi Rockwell
Written on : Summer Solstice 2016
Copyright © Plant A Tree Poetry | Year Posted 2016
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