Deadlines

I got used-

too used to feeling on top

On cracked windows

And creased curtains.

Barren and dreary outside

This tumultuous storm

Lay inside my eyes and kept

The raging wildfire abreast

If only momentarily.

I may be laying low

For a week or more

But I will not be beat.

Go ahead

And bring the cold that swells

In the late November chill

Of good intentions turned sour.

Age out all the promises

We have reached the cooling point,

Now slipping into disintegration.

Fed up of being a caricature of myself

I don’t get stressed so what do I get?

A tiny twig flowing in the river

Deviating from deadlines

Deviating from expectations

I’m going down

You have watched me drown

I know this feeling all too well

I will cry a wishing well

I hope you wish me well

Maybe you’ll see me later

When I’ve rearranged my display.

I think I’ve had enough

For today.

All other poetry Just some poetry

Georgie Bolam View All →

Student Journalist, Creative Writer, Poet, Traveller, Eco Warrior

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