A Life Wasted Poem by Michael Pruchnicki
A Life Wasted
you never know until it's too late
that everything you put your hand
to fades & dissolves in the sun
of an aroused intellect
that sees your work for what
it aint not what it seems
to those in the shadows
like yourself you dig?
even your hip lingo
shows the sag
in the back
stubble
& spit
Very deep I loved it :) kinda hard to understand at first but I got it Thumbs up for me
I was ready for the words last confession to slowly flow into the flame of ablutions mirror of an eye that slowly closes for the last time...iip
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
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5/3/2024 3:15:22 AM # 1.0.0.1119
The descendo is as touching as the life wasted and still in the process.