There Is No Direction
i admit, there is no direction
to follow, my feet keep walking,
my mind runs out of control,
imagination is an octopus
with tentacles, black is the color
of its defense, shoots and
moves, hides inside
a cave of stone,
getting away from
everyone.
where to go?
follow me, says The Feet.
a weak mind
easily submits to be taken
anywhere.
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
Added by Poetry Lover
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