And they all fall down

I stumble, I stagger

looking for just the right

choice of words.

A poem remains silent,

until it chooses to be heard.

 

I trip and I fall.

Reaching for imagery to describe,

an unlit desire, a pent up passion unmet.

 

I struggle in self-expression…

If only I could break through this conformity.

If only I could break through, this isolation

which surrounds me, infinitely.

 

If I raise my voice

and I squeal and Yell;

If I force my point using profanity,

or obscenity just for the thrill…

Am I saying anything at all, refreshing or new?

 

Ashes to Ashes,

Dust to Dust,

scatter the horsemen

as they fall down

among us.

 

 

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