Misfit

I wonder sometimes
How is it that anything I do
Or anything is say,
Anyway I play
Or even how I pray,
It is always too little
For what the world demands.

The World. Who is he? Or is he?
I am the world. Or am I?
If I’m the world, how is it that
I’m deficient for myself?
And if I’m not the world,
How is it that I care so much
for him to care for me,
Or some love
for him to spare for me?
Continue reading “Misfit”

Follow

Follow!

%d bloggers like this: