Remington Typewriter Tim Hamilton via Compfight


This recycled tome

Weighing heavy on my chest

Like a overloaded barbell as I try to impress.


I’ve one hand reaching up to heaven

One hand gripped tightly onto hell

My heart, the fulcrum to balance the scales.


The familiarity of my failings cause my soul nausea.

Same ole story, same old results

Insanity raises its glass as I profess “I thought this time would be different.”


The deception of “I can do it all by myself”

Is more convincing than a snooze button.

Nine more minutes rarely fulfills our rest.


I can get lost in the labyrinth of my mind.

Or, create a different narrative, a different story

To live in the unfolding, and worry less about the ending.


[Poem #236]


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