Wrecked Poem Poem by Dennis Mzwakhe Pitso

Wounded by unceasing reality
Fears so childish that they play with my delicate thoughts
All the aggression in me ought to be surpressed with time
As I pursue my goals I lean on sense of anticipation
Memory of yesterday cannot be erased
Image of tomorrow still shallow like a crooked sound
What lives in me is the phantom of opera
Bound by truth and caged by circumstances
I ink a wrecked poem that cannot be construed by an avarage intellect