There is something
wrong.
Something is
not right.
Anxious heartbeats expand and flee
into the night.
Though they escape,
I am pinioned.
Trapped by grey walls,
lab coats, sorrowed glances.
Hold me, please, someone?
I do not want to know.
I do
want to know.
I am scared
of the
something
that is
wrong.
3 comments:
*tear*
sad but poignant
you really are a good poetrist (i know that's not a word)
big hug
Blogger ate my first comment, so I'll try to recapture my words....Pilotgirl, this poem touched a small, scared place deep in the pit of my stomach. What I mean is, you are indeed a good "poetrist". I'm glad you're doing 21 days of poetry. Sending yet another hug, because one can never have enough....
-T
oh, and thanks for the link how-to.
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