It's hit me on the head,
This is it...
This is my life...
I would cry
If I weren't so depressed about it.
I'm a snail,
All soft and slimy and hiding in a shell,
Wandering about the landscape
Holding onto the stems of things.
All the feeling excited about life has slowed.
No more flashes of lightening bolts jazzing up the night-
The ones that say, 'Yeah man, this is it! '
These are almost gone.
I suppose I see my soul has died.
All souls have gone extinct, and
We're just little wads of flesh
Alien to our infinite nature-
Maybe scabs on the limbs of old truths now dead.
Comments about this poem (Today by Summer Shaw )
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