Strategies of Self ReflectionA Chapter by Brad BaumI watched the interaction between our
meager, young romantic and the masked man, Forcing my hand perhaps, Having placed a string upon their backs. Painted upon them golden slacks Reminding each of what they lack. And yet, I turn around Head in ground Never to be found Let me in the sound Six feet under Oh, what a blunder A constant wonder Of the soft rolls of thunder Roam the flowered meadows, A sea of yellow The crisp pluck of a cello A man oh so mellow He sits in wait At the wiry gate A question of fate Was he too late? Peter, peter pumpkin eater A long day at the theatre So one said, a born leader His life blood, his keeper Hands placed on the bar Scalding the skin, leaves a scar Not quite as far As the farthest star Lost in the sky, Dare to ask why? Won’t he just lie? Another soul to buy. I sit on my thrown Ignoring the moans And broken bones Seemingly unknown Am I blind? To the daily grind An erased mind One who is supposedly kind. Had I done wrong? Sang a different song? Kept it for too long? Had I lead you along? But you were never mine. A night chalked up to wine That had grown from the vine Leaving you divine And I? I am left here standing. Standing all alone. © 2010 Brad Baum |
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Added on December 27, 2010 Last Updated on December 27, 2010 AuthorBrad BaumAboutI am currently a junior at the University of Illinois, majoring in English and minoring in Secondary Education. I have a passion for reading, writing and music, three things that ultimately brought me.. more..Writing
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