This Poem was Submitted By: Joe Gustin On Date: 2017-12-08 15:54:36 . . . Click Here To Mail this Poem to a Friend!

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Where Am I ?

Adrift is the polite way of saying lost Hurt is a gentler word then bleeding I wonder what the color of my soul is  it takes its time leaving my heart Silence is a horrible bed companion  Doubt, the worst possible roommate  Anger makes the weakest ink when ugly words replace beautiful thoughts The sprit was never meant to be indifferent yet here are the walls of my sadness walling me in one dark mood at a time. No doors, no windows just pitfalls, just cliffs 

Copyright © December 2017 Joe Gustin


This Poem was Critiqued By: Ashni Irey On Date: 2017-12-09 03:41:38
Critiquer Rating During Critique: 1.00000
Somehow glad to have read this today. Lately I have also been wondering "what the color of my soul" is. I have tried hard to blame the weather. True that there are days when we see no doors or windows.. every morning is a fall. Thanks for sharing. Hope you have been well.


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