A free verse poem about what it’s like in the mind of someone living with, well… All the above.
Category: Poetry
Words are to the writer what clay is to the potter. Language will forever be limited in its capacity to expand wisdom. Words are but ONE of the many tools that God has given us to achieve this end. Poetry can bypass the intellect and pierce to the heart of the heart. “Tis the soul that reads between the lines.”
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ADDICTION
An acrostic poem
Are we truly free?
Do we know who we should be?
Does living mean surrender to captivity?
Is trauma our own?
Can we suffer it alone?
There's a demon that needs feeding.
Internally, it's breeding. BUT...
Once our eyes are clear
K(No)w that destiny is near. -
Behold the fruit
Free verse
We scramble
And fumble the fires we light.
We quench our thirst
With sand.
We do not seek
Anything that is not pleasing to the flesh
We feed our hunger
With smog.
We lie
First to others and then to ourselves.
We soil our souls
In shit.
We say "not now"
To the unspoken voice
sent to guide us home.
Behold the fruit to know the tree that birthed it