I’m so uncertain, friends, I just don’t know.
My life has spun, perhaps, out of control:
I do not know if I should stay or go,
I seem to have no function, place or role
But every day, I read among these words
Such certainties as I have never had:
From those who see sharp lines where I see blurreds;
Who know what’s right, what’s wrong, what’s good or bad
I think in iambs now, in groups of four;
My organized confusion here in verse,
I write to try to think, then write some more:
The bad gets analyzed, and comes out worse.
In sonnets of uncertainty, I dwell;
My mind so wracked, I neither ask