To Tell The Truth

So while I to these words will cling
And to this screen will rivet,
I know my life’s not anything
Unless I go and live it.

But will is weak, and habit strong,
And all our days but moments long,
That we will fill up with emptiness,
And secret thoughts of some caress —

And maybe only in the times
We can shut down our conscious minds,
Do we our truest voices hear,
That make it through the thick veneer

Of all the trappings that we cull
To stack around us in a pile,
And sing of paths we’ll never take,
And ask us why we waste

The while

Author: Beleaguered Servant

Owen "Beleaguered" Servant (a/k/a Sibelius Russell) writes poetry mostly, with an occasional pause to have a seizure. View all posts by Beleaguered Servant