What Is This Place?
Confined, and angry.
I sit like a blue flower in a field of grey.
nobody to talk to, I'm alone in this world.
That's alright, i have nothing to say.
Who is that man in the clouds?
I recognise his face.
What am I talking about? Some think I'm crazy,
But I know, it's just because I don't like this place.
The grey that suffounds me is dense.
I feel lost but perfectly at home.
My frustration is tempting me,
So here I sit, to write this poem.
8/16/09
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