The Poetry Keeps Coming

Welcome to the Agglomeration

Wounds of the Past

It's been ten days since the last one went away,
leaving behind nothing but a bouquet
of emotions and unspoken words, never
heard, never known, all ties severed.
To look again is like picking apples at the corner store,
picking them up only to find a tarnished spot
and put them back, not knowing anymore
what it is I ever wanted, all this I have forgot.
Like lifting a burden from an exhausted mule,
I forget everything, vanquishing the cruel
traces of my past to the depths of my concealing mind
and beneath the maelstrom an aegis I find.
These self-convincing illusions do nothing but contain
my pain briefly. In ten days, it will all begin again.

Till next time, may you agglomerate all your unpremeditated contemplations