I feel like a poppy
in a field of hogweed
My sentences have run dry
I am rudderless in the wilderness
I lack a welter of letters
unassigned to the wherewithal
I am lost in a cave
unfree to ply my words
The storm clouds jettison their foray
Speechless I gain no semblance
as the autre bards attack me
walking in no one's land
slow to trust in myself
the world should awaken
with an uninhibited din
Categories:
hogweed, angst,
Form: Free verse