That is not my styleI don’t really understand it It doesn't talk to me I had run away from it long long ago From the rhythmFrom the symmetryFrom the simile From the beautyFrom the sophistication From the un-commonness From the deceit From the picture which had no blemishFrom the dream which was perfect Never to return….It was not meant for me, not for the scum of the earth like meNot for those who couldn’t ignore the obvious and move beyondI ran….from the imposing structure Not much has changed since then…. I haven’t I’m still the dust, dirt and murk that I was, nowhere near what is termed the ideal But it broke away from the shackles Tore apart the structures and reached out to me
Poetry, found me......
