The Conundrums Of Life
I am a mess.
I am the coffee stain on the white paper that’s brighter than the sun.
I am the leaflets of paper the floor is consumed by.
I am the cup of markers knocked over, rolling away from the existence of life itself.
I am the paint staining the walls, knowing it will never be able to escape.
I am the tornado that rolled through the room that no one saw but everyone knows was there.
I am a mess.
I am the coffee stain on the white paper that’s brighter than the sun.
I am the leaflets of paper the floor is consumed by.
I am the cup of markers knocked over, rolling away from the existence of life itself.
I am the paint staining the walls, knowing it will never be able to escape.
I am the tornado that rolled through the room that no one saw but everyone knows was there.
I am a mess.
This Poems Story
The mess of life is the wholeness of the future.
Public Collections Containing This Poem
Other Poems By This Author
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The Stillness Of Time
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The Grim Reaper Lurks
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