Isms, Like In Pessimism Poem by Sandra Feldman

Isms, Like In Pessimism



As the quite moss does gather,
Round the lives that can't go farther,
Where all hopes have gone astray,
The black clouds of pessimism,
Inundate the quite prism,
Of a World that's made of 'isms',
And won't really ever change.

Monday, March 2, 2015
Topic(s) of this poem: life
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