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Why

Rating: 5.0
In front of my house,
A red brick wall stands witness
To my rising desires;
Overtime
It has not grown in height,
It has no graffiti painted on it,
No question asked either,
Almost an unwanted construct
That blocks my view.
I cannot see my world reshape
Itself,
It does not part the wind
That blows my way,
My desires stay unruffled
Gathering dust.
Indeed my nerves are taut,
There is a tightness building up in my chest
It does not allow me to breathe
Freely,
I gaze at the sky
Only to envy its spread and openness.
I could have grown wings to fly
Like I give to my thoughts
That leap and race.
Saturday, April 3, 2021
Topic(s) of this poem: thought
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COMMENTS
Robert Murray Smith 03 April 2021
A brick wall has its own reality.
0 0 Reply

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4/18/2021 1:38:46 PM # 1.0.0.559