Poezie
The I
1 min lectură·
Mediu
I’m out there, on the gray side of the door
Where there are only particles of me
Spun madly by sour winds
A monolith chipped off,
Its sound obtuseness turned into infinite question marks,
The vassal protuberances within a color self-declared,
Subscribers to persuasion,
All conjured in a fat bouquet under the claims of familiarity
They’ve parted ways now
Who knows how many cycles until resolving to become new homeland,
How many million hours until subscribing to a new convention,
And a new definition of my spirit
Who knows how much duration of the same old falls
Falls from the feudal grace of reference poles?
Each I ends locked out barefoot in the cold
Driven back to splinters,
Splinters that fail to ever find a knot.
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Despre aceasta lucrare
- Autor
- Cora Manole
- Tip
- Poezie
- Cuvinte
- 126
- Citire
- 1 min
- Versuri
- 17
- Actualizat
Cum sa citezi
Cora Manole. “The I.” Atelier, Poezie.ro, https://poezie.ro/atelier/cora-manole/poezie/13894046/the-iComentarii (5)
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