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!

 

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