Roll out drawers
filling cabinets...
Waiting
For chocolate...
My hand feels the war
raging between my thoughts and pen...
Amber shades are mere reflections
of a time long ago, hidden twixt...
Nearly everything ends up
in a flea market...
Seeking refuge from the world
Attempting solitude on my own...
My name, it is not Jack,
And I do not have a spring...
My brother had a milk run
at the age of eight...
This sin has been cast
and demons I pass...
You wielded your tongue like a dagger,
it cut across my teeth...
Just another empty life; one wasted in despair.
Just wish for something better or to have no more...
**This poem was a club challenge in which we had...
Occasionally I question how others view the world...