times are changing and i feel stagnant
like a branch stuck to a tree near a gushing river
the throngs brushing past my shoulder
as if i'm being dragged by my eyes leaving the rest of me behind
as if I'm stuck in a single moment like a broken hand on a clock
years pedaling by, wrinkling my skin to prunes yet inside a seed frozen at planting
it's like the world is a 3D museum and I just wasn't given the glasses
like i'm stagnant picture from the 1900's being moved through the album pages- not living the years i'm existing
just existing.
Stagnant, so so stagnant
About the Creator
T. Licht
I have a love for words and a love to share them.
Enjoy! and thank you for taking the time to read this and maybe if you want subscribe and buy my new poetry book Whispers at Twilight
Enjoyed the story? Support the Creator.
Subscribe for free to receive all their stories in your feed.
Comments
There are no comments for this story
Be the first to respond and start the conversation.