Skins. Poem by Peter Vealey
Skins.
Soon you will be here
My sweet fear.
And I will not be
So concerned with trivia.
Picking pieces off the floor.
Invasions of insects, the incessant nightmare.
Will just be a paranoia,
Out of control.
Normal folks would say.
The skins we protect at all costs.
To keep your "face"
And from knowing me.
I will always be a
Strange neighbour,
Under these conditions.
No one wins,
No one ever wins.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
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4/20/2024 12:50:43 AM # 1.0.0.1119
Soon you will be here My sweet fear. no one ever wins.......... a fine poem. dear poet. tony