financial struggles
Learn more about other poetry terms
Inside where the fire rages,
a blasting inferno of a furnace,
I hold desperately onto clumps of coal and gasoline—
trying to gather all the fuel I can
that will blaze way to my future.
Your shelter, Your illusion
coldblooded, halfhearted
this eternal masquerade
You are wasted rotten
with mirrors gold;
reflections twisted,
subconscious mold,
ice-cold camaraderie.
Dear Conscience,
Do you remember when I was young?
Because I can’t seem
To fit those pieces together
For where I am now
