Angry at the stupid people,
I go crazy at dullness,
sit and stare into an empty face.
Back at me, vulnerability rushes up,
I'm left the rebel,
without a deeper consciousness.
The harder it gets
I close my eyes,
I get unwilling,
my body belies mind.
Older, the world forgets
I'm some kind of insensitivity.
I'm left here without a cause.
I delve into me
and you it gets me most.
I'll never see my eyes,
recollect, never forget what hurts.
I'll never see your touch.
I am the best thing you've never heard of.
I hold a Bachelor's in English, History and Secondary Education, and a Master's in English: Creative Writing, though my appearance belies intelligence.
My goal in life is to write and to be read. It's a modest stretch by most imaginations.
To most I'm amazing.
It all depends on your definition of literary merit.
All poems contained on this blog are ©Thomas Boersma unless otherwise noted.
Tuesday, February 1, 2011
Poem-A-Day: Day 446
Piano Song
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