New Theory Poetry Series
Is not mine; yet his intention
Invites this insidious infection
That leaves innocence in question.
My soul is in shambles
My sorrow flows in rambles
The reflection molds and dismantles
Me with all I’ve handled.
My personality mirrors split
Valid violently veers adrift
My fear is a gift
Given from the Satanic Sith.
New job less than a week after graduation,
Hey congratulations; you’ve had the patience
For the little things; grow while gracious.
A matured man reaches through the matrix.