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Discombobulation
Life has become an amorphous mass,
Sans shape, sans structure.
And my mind is in total discombobulation.
I feel I am like a scrap yard.
My world has lost its tint and throb.
Defeated and decimated,
I long for an about-turn,
To reach back from whence I started
To get out of this quagmire
To restore all that slipped through my fingers,
In the tangled labyrinthine paths of life!
How I wish to curl unobtrusive,
Into the womb that bore me once,
To be reborn once more as my old self
To enjoy the peace and bliss, now alien!
As trees bared by the winter blasts,
Stay in wait for the spring to arrive,
I await a new life, fresh and new.
Before that, I must rip loose,
And peel away the covert mask
Sticking tight to my concealed face
Though it may cause me to bleed.
Exhale the soot of hatred,
Polluting my larynx and lungs,
The time is up for me to leave the stage.
But before I make the final bow
I should fit into a new cast,
And become a man again!!
Copyright ©
Valsa George
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