FOG OF CONFUSION

There was another one,
I bit my tongue floating
in a fog of confusion
and disillusion.

And no comfort in knowing
I was not in control, asleep at the soul.
Now I question my future days,
in ways I prefer not to.

Colors a whirl, rushing by
and yet I could not reply.
I did see the beauty in the day
as it would be, just not in me.

Reviews

[Baby Ricochet]

Fogs of confusion can be quite delightful, until they clear. Great poem