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No nourishment on the forest floor
There was a time when I spoke a lot.
Representing my thoughts,
As if I had something interesting to say.
I listen to everybody that wanted me around.
Thoughts lately hard to convey
I want to stop exsisting
physically in the minds of others
I want to hide away for hours
Painting wonderous lonely dreams
Etched in the most beautiful insignificant pain
Self infliction breaking
the id the ego it needs satisfaction
But it must get out of my path
I'm conflicted and stubborn
Quietly driving them all away
Brooding
When the id wars with the ego, the id wins. When the ego looks in the mirror,
the mirror wins. When the poet writes lines that resonate with existence, existence
blanches. Be the words and find joy there. Peace to you for the season and throughout your breathing days - I send you smiles & a hug- Stella
Yes...
Turning inward on oneself isn't good. Perhaps its the changing of the seasons, perhaps not. I just need to enjoy my time, somehow. All this brooding makes for good poetry but a sad face.
Signs of oneself, cloaked and
Signs of oneself, cloaked and guarded into seclusion....sounds a little lonely...but I liked it. Bear
"Deepinyourdreams"
I like it
It does read both ways.
That is up to you.
KS