Mad, Sad, and an Ignoramus to Know

2082002

 

Mad, Sad, and an Ignoramus to Know

 

I don’t send color sunward round,
Nor flowery, scented invite—
There is no buzz to RSVP me.

I’m ignorant of upward sound,
Without feathery, lifted take off—
Here the winds hit like a mosh pit.

I’m unacquainted with onward bound,
No wavy, thrusted freedom—
Everywhere ebb tide sucking backslide.

 

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