There are times life is complicated
The desolate, deserted mind
Faded words, bleary eyes
The beauty of yesterdays thoughts, no more.
Arriving at the writing bureaux weary
Sinking, shrinking into that leather chair
Comfort
Vain attempt at assembling words
Contempt
Feeling vexed with himself
Why?
November a soulless month
Misunderstood.
(c) Chris Black. November 2018
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Hear a #SpokenWord version @ https://soundcloud.com/the-poets-poet-1