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A Thousand Poems

Where am I, where am I going?

By Colin WarehamPublished 5 years ago 1 min read
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It couldn't take a thousand poems

or more

It couldn't take all the words

ordered in just the right way

It couldn't take the songs of the birds or the smiles of flowers

It couldn't take perfection from this point forward

It is gone, I have sent it

I will write

perhaps thousands

or more

But I will write them for no one to hear

only for me to write them

My heart hangs low like the willow trees swaying in the wind

Like my voice, the wind carries it far away

Where you cannot hear it

The wind takes my soul and swirls it around as well

oh no, it crashes into a tree

My souls aches and moves slowly, my soul is angry at the wind

Who is my soul?

Who are you?

Where have I gone? Where is home?

What answers do I have?

No.

Questions flood my head, my stomach turns

Yet the sun still shines

My eyes water, my thoughts swirl

Yet Smokey still plays

Who will come for me now?

No.

Get out of my head, you animal.

sad poetry
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About the Creator

Colin Wareham

Someone once told me writing is therapeutic. Don't bully me.

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