Where there were tears
There aren't anymore
As though my existence
Went out the door
Could I even muster a passionate line?
Rhyme and speak of vast entities like time
No more than a line
A sentence I construct
It's the amplified comparison
That I tend to see
The passion that once was me
Concrete is the foundation
That enraptures my mind
The glass ceilings and the advertising signs
Mechanical is the city in my head
Working so that I won't go dead
A battery
a worn out plug
Turning of the wheels
That keep us from
Our rural roots
our primitive prime
The taste of the earth
The taste of time
When the watches were outlandish
The indoors a dread
When I could possibly articulate
All that could be said
But don't worry about my words
my senseless rhymes
I'll perform the mundane tasks
That will subside
Till it is as if I won't go on anymore
Italy, France, the sun
close their doors
So I'm left here wishing
I could take part
being an unclaimed solar system
A piece of art
So all that was expected and all they would need
it a glimpse to see
that this life isn't
What it should be
Awesome poem - but sad.
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