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Rated: E · Poetry · Other · #2136890
You are only a dream of time, a stranger to yourself wandering through the seasons. (cm)
I’ve tried to make it known to them
shown them
or somehow made it felt
but my voice
it dwindled to a murmur
squirming through the wall

creation has left
our hands to touch
our minds too much
and our tongues
to bubbles blown
popping empty in the air

one soul withered makes no difference
to the business of the beast
there then is the crux
to keep my convolutions mute
by what fantasy was I to think
that they would want to know
© Copyright 2017 Christy Mahon (christymahon at Writing.Com). All rights reserved.
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Printed from https://www.Writing.Com/view/2136890