Falling through pompous poems, spiraling
Slippery sinking, rhyming rolling
In down directions, foreign for me
Cascading in chalkboard screechy sounds
Hanging by nails that can catch and clasp
Clinging to hollow hopes once grasped
Sliding sorrows, long lost dreams dashed
Descending dusty thoughts that propel
Nothing now left of me, you can tell
Copyright © Greg Gaul | Year Posted 2021
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem