Sometimes I feelI stand apart,
a broken boy
with broken heart.
I watch the others
as they do dart,
and hear the joy
held in their laugh.
And when I laugh,
is it so?
A hearty sound?
Or does it show?
Or is it empty?
Sounds hollow?
I only wish to know.
I stand before
but stand apart.
Held together
by bits
and parts.
But whole do I
now come to start.
A mended boy
and mended heart.
and i made the mistake of thinking in the first few lines that you hadn't hit the mark with this one ... ooops. The big hit in the second and third para's brings it belting home.
ReplyDeleteThis one raises the fascinating question about your pics that accompany your words. Does the pic inspire or congeal your thoughts or does it work the other way around ???
As always brilliant stuff
xxx
G
Awesome poetry Marcus!
ReplyDelete