Stuck

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wrote this on a whim of pure emotion...

Stuck

What are we if we arn't but mindless zombies?
If the strings were unattached, could we still be pulled?
What invisible forces control these urges we call human instinct?
Will you watch over and wait while I try to sort these jigsaw pieces?
Please stand by me and be patient while I try to understand.
Am I already the one I hate or do I play the progressive role?
I'm not who I want to be; I can accept that much. 
...I might be who I hate already. 
I might be my own worse enemy now. 
I can't decide the right move to make or the right words to say. 
The moment for action is here but I'm stuck between paradise and retribution.
I feel the flames rise up against my face and the darkness hushes me back to sleep. 
I must be careful now not to be consumed by them, or worse, to consume myself. 

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Poetry is not an expression of the party line. It's that time of night, lying in bed, thinking what you really think, making the private world public, that's what the poet does.

Allen Ginsberg (1926-1997) U.S. poet.

Pocahantas’s Poems (23)

Title Comments
Title Comments
Plight 0
The Present 1
Stuck 0
This Thing we Call Love 1
Enough 1
I understand now 0
Why I didn't do my homework 0
Take my Hand 2
Muddy Water 1
Empowerment 0
Back at it Again 1
Family meeting 1
Sunday Rain 4
Much too Much 3
All Aboard!!! 3
One and Only You 1
ATTN POETS!!! ANSWER THIS IF YOU MAY... 6
Cramps and Heartache 0
My Brother and Me 1
Shadow of His wings 1
I Am My Music 2
Mischief Morning 1
Garden of My Heart 1