Insubstantial
I’m a footprint erased
by the incoming tide
I’m bad information
when somebody lied
I’m a lone black bird
in a murder of crows
I’m the last chilling word
by Edgar Allan Poe
I’m a condom discarded
with last year’s true love
I’m a fast-falling feather
from the flight of a dove
I’m a grain that was lost
at the old threshing post
I’m hollow and empty
with the eyes of a ghost
I’m lipstick that’s washed
from a chipped coffee mug
I’m the eternal wrong answer
the dumb student’s shrug
I’m dust that is blown
from the churchyard stones
I’m the dead that is living
just flesh without bones
I’m a siren that dwindles
going over the hill
I’m water that slows
after turning the mill
I’m lonely and helpless
like a babe’s stifled cry
I’m not a real person
just some Internet guy
Need a hug?
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Hahahaha! Well, I sure did that day! But never fear, I weathered the storm. However, the coffee shop where I wrote that poem is now gone, and that is a problem that is anything but insubstantial!
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I actually really enjoyed that poem. Made me feel a lot better about myself. Loved the Poe reference.
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Oh my, that must have been a very bad day! Good imagery! I think we all feel just like that on occasion.
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It was a bad day, but I don’t even remember all the details. It was many years ago, and I was indulging myself by wallowing in my own misery!
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The ubiquitous “they” who know everything say artists often suffer to produce their work 😉
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I know a thing or two about suffering, but my readers know more!
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