The same tired themes,
The same boring imagery
The same idle pleas
of unknown story
From this page,
Of empty aim
May there arise
some glory.
Lidocaine
of the brain,
A blank
quarry.
Where to go
To end this thing
There is no
Knowing...
YOU ARE READING
Simply Poetry
PoetryA collection of poems by Sean Arturo Last. You are encouraged to leave your interpretations in the comments. -- © All Rights Reserved (No unauthorized copy, distribution, transmission, or alteration of the work.)
