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Floating
No interest in confessing,
A depressed state of mind...
Others will have no time,
Trying to understand.
And that is understood!
These thoughts I have now...
Are like driftwood.
Seen floating.
As if it is on its own!
Something that had grown attached.
But overtime has become detached...
Released!
And roams disconnected.
Freed from a conformity bred!
Is it dead?
Has it in fact been rejected,
Instead?
Because it shows no life known,
Anyone could say they knew!
poem
by
Lawrence S. Pertillar
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