|
| |
Space Suit
Trapped in my space suit
Tied down to the launching pad
Terrorized by the rocket
Paralyzed to the surface
The cold surface of my skin
Basks in the judgmental sun
Strapped in my race boot
A dyed gown around my chest
A hard place and a rock, it
Seems I stand in perturbance
Fervidness of my kin
Tasks my legs to jump the gun
My chest strains as my legs race
My heart aches at my minds race
"When I win I'll pen the pin"
But I'd only lose to win a when
Internal torment. Eternal Dormant.
In turn I'll forfeit to eternal internal scornment
Copyright ©
THOMAS LIARDON
|
|