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The iron forge of my mind,

does not incline.

By Oliver MPublished 2 months ago 1 min read

There it sits idly by,

why oh why,

I sit here in the throne of my eye.

Here it hears like a fly by,

where o where;

did I hear it loud and clear.

I touched and felt your prescence just cause you kept me on leash,

although in my sense I saw your face unfairly smirked my way.

How then must I see this while I process it in,

than me being unfairly upon my own.

Worry to my anxiety,

nuh nuh, uh oh;

then I do not do nothing,

I only need to clasp my hands in between a space and make alignment down below here up to the top of sky,

and ask;

"for thanks and grace upon this place and make me a plastic case".

arthow toinspirationalperformance poetryslam poetryvintage

About the Creator

Oliver M

Poetry is my past, the future rolls for no one. I'd rather have her exorcise my past and to entertain as life goes by in this chaotic world.

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