Transcendental Trauma
Their elan and their eclat only made my ennui bloom
It made me long, made me yearn for the womb or tomb
When given carte blanche by the dilettante masses
I found my creative spirit to be lacking true passions
I pined to be a paradoxical paragon, a peculiar paradigm,
An anomaly in the cacophony, not a soldier in peacetime
I had a feeling of deja vu while they bantered and prattled
In the baroque anteroom I was illuminated yet addled
To be avant-garde, nay, prototypical, I must make them look inside
To see the truth, to eschew the ersatz, to embrace what's bona fide
Copyright © Trey Hamner | Year Posted 2018
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