I Try


For certain, they’re uncertain times.
Away, I draw these hurtin’ lines,
Hoping it’s just me they’ll find,
Saying them with teeth, I grind.

‘Cause careful words don’t say themselves,
And coats of dust won’t save the shelves.
Still, no one knows what time yet tells,
Except our fates, those private hells.

While looking for what lurks, behind,
A zipper that no one designed.
A tripper that just can’t unwind,
To that is all is which I’ve resigned.

Through sleepless days, and dayless nights,
I’ve seen the sounds of putrid lights,
Zip-tied myself to all the kites,
Made my peace with starry nights,

So I can say, “I’m sorry” right
While they all pray “How far he might.”
I know this sounds so fucking trite,
But nothing hurts that I can’t write.

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Key Words : life,

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This Poems Story

In April of 2020 during an emotional episode brought on by sleep deprivation I found myself inside an eruption of inspiration related myself, my life, and the world around me as I saw it.