The stomach is full,
Heart is lacking,
What to do,
When it all feels through?
He's so slow,
But yet so sharp,
Can his observations be that far apart?
We'll never know, since he never takes any chances,
This coward's opus littered with near misses and second glances,
It's never too late, but it sure isn't early anymore either
Sunday, June 12, 2016
Topic(s) of this poem: fear of self,fearful