I'm here again and pondering,
venting through my pen.
Inside my head is jumbled,
and my world is crashing in.
This self destructive cycle,
that never seems to end.
That asks the same old question,
stand tall and strong, or do i bend?
Feelings of indifference,
surrounding me with guilt.
Are tugging at foundations,
for that of which i've built.
And there's no-one here to talk to,
no ear with which to share.
So i sit and vent on through my pen,
as i have done for years.
For the pen will spread no rumour,
and the paper can be burned.
And my feelings can stay private,
that much i have learned.
For life is unforgiving
of errors in judgement made.
But a decision will be reached
amongst this thought toraid.
Heath Gunn
A marvellous piece. You certainly have a great flair with this pen of yours sir! . A true poets piece. Get it down on paper and out of your system. Truly enjoyed Steve A Mad Merseyside Poet
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
This one seems to be a classic. One that is going into my favorites and out to my friends. Something that I keep trying to put in my head is Guilt is a useless emotion. Love your style and looking forward to more