copying getaways

carrying with me the
observed pieces that have
played with my mind and hounded me
yelling in my ear and ruining my silence
insured that peace is just a dream away
nestled in the complicated
games my mind is always playing with itself
getting distracted from the pain which pursued
every good intention i was born with
taxed beyond my desire to remain
alert and aware but somehow not really here
when the temperature change is like a stranger
always entering just to make others leave
yours and my tricks almost hiding up my sleeve
should know better than to hurry through time

About jaybeasley2

a writer, a painter, a poet, a wordsmith
This entry was posted in poem, poems, poetry, Uncategorized. Bookmark the permalink.

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