Nonsense

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Status: Finished  |  Genre: Poetry  |  House: Booksie Classic


My brain speaks in riddles

incoherency comes so naturally

yet these tongues have no translation

No one will read these words

and finally understand these

voices of mine

This rosetta stone was cracked

and wrongfully rearranged long ago

the pieces forcing themselves

upon the others

Stringing sense is a longstanding 

game of tug of war with the Muses

who lie on the floors in echoing halls

knowing I’ll only ever catch half their words

These riddles of mine that make

no sense are the best attempt

at reality I have


Submitted: June 11, 2021

© Copyright 2021 CasualDreamer. All rights reserved.

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