Act of Living
April 19, 2013 § Leave a comment
She’s already passed by her life
In such a daze, strife after strife
It’s so difficult now, to breathe,
Simple, mindless act of living,
Can’t spend much time in her grieving,
Regret pressed around like a wreath,
Entrapped in a numb life passed by,
Waiting now for her body die,
The skeleton of bones her sheathe.
18th poem is a Nove Otto. I don’t really like this one – put it together very quickly. I’ll catch up with my forms this weekend though, hopefully!