Un-Named Poem by Annie Clarke

Melancholy like a clown
lost in an array
of abundant lies
stark sharp cold
like a dark winter storm

Its gate unbecoming
lost musing
some incomprehensible fact
wistful and distant
wandering in obscurity
shaking hands with diversity

Accepting life
as if it’s ever turning dial
where not giddy
with a wish to alter
each cautious step taken

and that destiny
did not enjoy
tripping into
a new self
and complicating
life’s so called misfortunes

Unfathomable
tired whimsical
dully inspired
tiptoeing inside
the entangled world
of happiness
and fleeing like a
child from a spider

to sit placidly
in a hollow
of no feeling
and recline
into a void
of sentimental
stillness