Buffing My Soul Poem by Glen Martin Fitch

Buffing My Soul



Okay! I feel the pain.
So where's the gain?
We limp through life.
Some keep the march.
Some crawl.
Avoiding hazards,
longing to complain,
we scan our scars,
while hoping death to stall.
We all want bliss.
Aroused, entranced we think
the gross, the grand and
everything between
will fill the void.
And so we eat.
We drink.
We screw and shop
to try to feel serene.
Of course,
there never really is enough.
Too soon
the over-loaded senses fade
and faced with anxious fear
we bluff, evade, and
leave our hidden needs betrayed.
I often think
I'd rather die than feel.
At least with every wince
I know what's real.

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