A plethora of predicaments race in my mind at best.
Which one can I fathom to ponder about next?
Shall I even think of acting upon what my mind stirs about,
or cry my soul asleep by this never-ending drought?
What will my career be?
The words "last resort" come screaming at me with no one to yell halt.
The quick years will pass; then they will hit me and it's my own fault.
All of my solutions come bearing a bag of infinite errors.
My late-night thoughts give me shrieking terrors.
At what point in time does this maze come to a close?
On the inside I am slowly weeping, but on the outside I pose.
I look around my room and it does not express myself.
Question creeps in my eyes at the princess sign of the shelf.
I am feeling confusion; don't worry, not despair.
All I really want in this life is to be without a care.
Poem About Feeling Confusion
I grew up watching my dad and mum argue every single night, he bashed her, over and over again. If it hurt me and I was only watching, imagine being her. Attacked with a chair, with a beer...
Last Resort
Published by Family Friend Poems November 2009 with permission of the Author.
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