Misfortune Of Time

I sat in my cage with a pencil in my hand,

Writing down things I called fictitious.

I called it that so better then to say,

Truth when no one wants truth.

I give them lies.

 

Listening to the cawing of birds,

My hands tremble as they peck and slander my pages,

It’s ironic how I am lost in my own,

Thoughts and ideas.

 

Whittle me down to nothing as these lines hold me at bay,

Though I know given time they could jump from their vice.

The last of my nefarious ways, and I,

Are embedded in a misfortune of time. 

Reviews

[Jazique]

Nice very nice I love the words used and how you just builded up everything on a climax of "misfortune of time" and for what ever reason it is I love that line and what you say when its 'truth when no one wants truth," which in itself is so truth but, the descriptions, the worls, and lines how the connect to the poem and the readers with "It's ironic how I am lost in my own, thoughts and ideas,(always)" is just amazing. Anyways well done I liked it.

[patricia]

I like how you set the scene in the first stanza, and then the mood in the second stanza. Then in the third time the waiting game. Brilliant. Thankyou.