the dance of the ink riddled fingers

none without the other

Posted in the poet-tree by enisea on 03/05/2012

I saw my life
It looked quite thin
Was that how I
Had always been?

Then looking closer
I saw the fat
I wondered how
I’d accumulated that

There appeared an imbalance
Quite clearly quite strange
My life was a mix of
Too conflicting a range

I loved it at times
I’d skipped through rhyme
Though times of despair
Where occasionally there

But for the most part, I know
I’d forgotten I lived
A life that I barely
Could stand to live in

For my life is just small
If I’d only remembered,
I’d have saved all those people
From facing my tempers

Still my life is large enough
To create a dent
If only I’d realised,
The ripples I’d sent

I would no sooner have bid
To better my conduct
For life was the strange thing
I wasn’t sure if I’d mucked

See, I think it matters
What life we live
For hearts scream injustice
When others misgive

The only measure I have
For the importance of life,
Is the power to love
Without thinking twice

If life is a breath
And love is forever
Yet love is not possible
without life whatsoever

Then love will not let
If life is so weak
And life will not want
If love is so bleak


2 Responses

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  1. saNdra said, on 03/05/2012 at 10:19 PM

    ohhhh. so punchy!! =]

  2. pixiedress said, on 06/05/2012 at 9:28 PM


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