A History of Questions

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There once
upon me was hidden
a gift
so hauntingly clear.
My eyes
blinded by envy.....
from it did I steer.

Why is it so incessant? Do I always need to stay within the present? Can't I just avoid it? Facing my convictions, why do they impede?

I look
around at this space and
I know
it's dusty indeed.
Shake off
the mold that is growing
Top soil turned, planting a seed.

Why am I always sleeping when I'm awake? Why is it that dreaming is more than I can take? Am I only happy when I'm depressed? Or is it only an illusion I won't put to the test?

Always when I'm empty,
I'll drop and refill.
A pleasure in the lending,
I'll pay the tab when it's due.

A solace in forgiveness,
but a taste of mistake.
On the breath of being senseless;
I've a mask to replace.


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1 comment

  • Comment Link Sydney Winram Friday, 31 March 2017 05:18 posted by Sydney Winram

    I really love the line, "a solace in forgiveness, but a taste of mistake." The felling or perspective I took from this poem describes a deep and concise emotional struggle with oneself. It is very good. I look forward to reading more.

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