Thread: Poetry By Me

"A Novel Survival"

Between a wasted scene and an unheard introduction
The narrator slips in and slips out, unscathed, unharmed
Leaving behind botched birth, twitching bodies
A colorless, slightly retarded set of offspring
Easily manipulated in every aspect of the word
To no avail, this mass-production attempts to create
The only sum of its attempts is more and more concrete.
By every word, by every thought, it furthers its own road
Such irony rests on the potter's wheel: A self-proclaimed end.
This congregation has no way past the ruined bridge.
Their works have always been works of fiction.
Their lives, mangled and trampled by diction.
This is the author's abandonment.
Every page turned is another limb
Another cry from this unwanted child