Disconnected Poem by DM W

Disconnected



O these bright fragments, leftover from childhood,
No longer provide pleasure. They've lost their worth.
As for Youth's brief arena of distractions,
Its vivid colours used to arouse me, but
It lacked substance and form. And now life's pressures
Weigh heavy upon me. O there seems to be
No escape from the all consuming rat race!
It will take some time; but I will heal my mind.

Friday, March 6, 2020
Topic(s) of this poem: disappointment
COMMENTS OF THE POEM
Clive Culverhouse 06 March 2020

Youths brief arena of distractions Great line. Enjoyed reading this poem.

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Dominic Windram 06 March 2020

Thanks Clive...much appreciated!

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