No Words

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Status: Finished  |  Genre: Poetry  |  House: Booksie Classic
I feel, like many, an emotional overload. I hardly know what to think anymore. This poem was my attempt to convey that...

Submitted: December 30, 2019

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Submitted: December 30, 2019

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No Words

I drink my coffee quietly
With lips that have been sealed,
It burns as it slides off my chin
But last week’s burns have healed.

My mind is marching picket signs
Around inside my brain,
I’ve tried to reach the union but
They’re out to lunch again.

I went online to order peace
But they were out of stock,
Instead they sent a photo of
The famous Doomsday Clock.

I stare at it and contemplate
And take another sip,
I must get out the Ozonol
And put some on my lip.



©Bobi Leutschaft Poitras, 2019


© Copyright 2020 Bobi Leutschaft Poitras. All rights reserved.

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