Three hundred cans of soup
Listen to poem:
In three hundred, I pulled without fear,
From my dentition, a grin quite sincere
Clichés serve as my balm,
In the chaos, my psalms
Yet to some; I might seem quite unclear,
With words throbbing back in my head,
I ponder the things that I've said
Did commentation run dry,
As I reached for the sky?
Or am I just tangled in dread?
The gallery, it holds all my grace,
While some think I'm lost in the space
But in laughter and rhyme,
I still bide my time,
In this curious, chaotic embrace!
Copyright © Anonomus Scorpio | Year Posted 2024
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