What Happened?

Been feeling like that lately.
A shut out soul,
And a forgotten man
With Whithered prospects.
So it was,
That I would be,
The kind of being that you see.
Bereft of redemption
And in need of admiration.
I sang about droplets of honey
At the time I cared for no money.
Naive and talented
Careless and arrogant.
Tasteless and quasi-smart.
So, it is,
That I am none of these.
The tenacious being
That used to be
Is fast forgotten by those that be.
I hear them ask: Who is this?
I am that detail you can’t miss
Lost in the grip of Oizys

Categorized as Poem

By Jordan Tumwesigye

The stroke of the pen cures all pain The symbols on a page outlast age

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