RoseAnn V. Shawiak
Stream Of Life
Gone is the past, shattered by ageless time, with no where to
go you stand still.
Relying on others to help pull you through, letting everything
flow by with no continuity.
Never having to sit down and think things through, everyone
passes you by.
Because you are too full of unanswered questions of yourself,
to reach out your hand in an unsteady stream of life.
Drifting from thing to thing in one place, your face has become
a broken mask - yourself a meaningless task.
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Comments about this poem (Stream Of Life by RoseAnn V. Shawiak )
The Road Not Taken
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Edgar Allan Poe
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Stopping by Woods on a Snowy Evening
William Ernest Henley
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