Fine Tuning Poem by Casey Renee Kiser / snail viXen
Fine Tuning
My fingers
My hands
My wrists
hurt so bad from working
all these years-
Working to be somebody
Always feeling like nobody
Some days,
it hurts to even turn the dial on the radio
But I don't have to turn anymore
'cause
You're the right frequency (self)
And when you come to ground me,
I know that's where I'm meant to be
stationed. Set the pre-set to
Love.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
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4/23/2024 7:31:32 PM # 1.0.0.1119
