What Am I
You are but a clay mold of a reflection, shaped by forces you do not see, and while you remain within the mold, true understanding will always elude you. But the mold is not a prison—it is a form to be filled, emptied, and remade in the cycles of existence.
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
Turn off ads, get more exposure for your poetry, and get more features with a
Premium Membership.
