Today’s poem is a rather maudlin piece to match the weather outside. I promise I’ll share some more uplifting pieces soon!
Feeling blue in a world of grey,
cut open amongst disguises,
flat when I should be on display,
lost in a grid of high rises—
and before me lies a blank page
with no answer, no direction,
lines that lie like bars on a cage
when there’s only imperfection
that I have to give and nothing
of worth or with purpose to be,
all I can hold to, this one thing,
is this imperfection is still me.