London Poem: Day 224

29 March

The eyes that make the world go round,
Bright and unreadable,
Are on me now.
Watching as I move back and forth,
Tenuous,
Knowing nothing is ever done
With conviction any longer.
There is no fooling her,
No deceit from me,
But what about her?
Do I know she sees it all?
Or even care?
Mother nature is cruel,
Because I’ll never know,
Always uncertain whether this
Move will be my last.

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Published by

keelancrampsey

In flux

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