Get Used To All These Somehow
get used to all these somehow
these that i cannot understand
always the questions in my mind
like open mouths
longing for a kiss
empty and cold,
there are answers to choose
got nothing
i move in an open field
gasping for air
like a fish on the floor
shattered glasses and water
seeping on the
wooden floor
too dry for me but I'll get used to
all these
tomorrow the usual sun shines
if you ask me
i have no answers i will pretend
that this is the usual day
nothing extraordinary
like the passing of the wind
i shall not be carried away
but i have to rearrange my hair
gets crumpled
and i do not really like it
being seen by you and you ask
if it's me
i am. it was me.
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
Added by Poetry Lover
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