Cloudy Bell Jar
Someone remind me it's a beautiful life;
even if it's the ground keeping you the right way up.
Trip yourself, pat down yourself, unwind yourself and brush off yourself.
I do it all like I've done for everyone else.
The bubble of loneliness always seems ready to pop
while I try to give it a happier name,
As in art, light and movement persist to never stay the same,
Watching summer fade out of my skin
and my eyes and the air I breath.
Still the ground's under me
and I'm under a huge cloudy bell jar.
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Comments about this poem (Cloudy Bell Jar by Delilah Miller )
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