Wrong
I sit upon, my thoughts so blunt:
I hear the birds that cry,
Not what I do, but what I can't,
One can only try.
I look upon, the sky so dark,
The air is cool and still.
The journeys that I won't embark,
Feelings I'll never feel.
I'll walk this road, with uncertainty:
I'll help myself along,
Until I rest-- eternally,
Forgetting all my wrong.
Copyright © Elliot Randall | Year Posted 2013
Post Comments
Poetrysoup is an environment of encouragement and growth so only provide specific positive comments that indicate what you appreciate about the poem.
Please
Login
to post a comment