partly cloudy

the oppression
of confused weather and sleepless days
the restlessness
of excess choice
lending bitter aftertaste
to the frustration of imprisonment
the bindings of my sensitivities
no less cutting than the chords of ignorance
false harmonies less false
than those truths emboldened
turning pride to shame,
a gilded shade
of glory glistening
in the dazzling lights
of the parade
that i'm too tired
to whoop for

Comments

Popular posts from this blog

cosmic dust

from the corridors of evelyn's mind