When nothing fits or seems quite as it ought
To be; if what you saved for & then bought
Turns out a fraud & fake; &, should no port
Within the storm arrive on time, you're caught
Upon the waves of self delusions, fraught
With guilt & sadness, black despair, naught
To cheer you, nor to help you home; when short
Of friends likewise because you simply sought
To thine ownself be true, not dumbed & brought
To book by others' claims; if all you fought
And nearly died for still avails not, taught
Or learning wrong ideals & praxis, nought
And less to show as gain: a poem's wrought
From this poor, slurried mess, one wandering thought!
L. A. Barron
[18/12/2018]
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