Monique
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The Plight of Clarity. Unfinished Thought.
🕑 Added 2017-02-05 08:46:15 +0000 UTC Often, I keep all these words to myself,Soften and sleep among the herd with stealth.
Like layman, laden with a latent scurf of radiance
Singing single syllable courtesies,
and performing surface maintenance
Raging for raised wages, but won't reach for the higher shelf.
Absurd, had they heard words
Unrelated to material wealth.
Await, pray for patience, cadence.
Lost in grey gradience
Caught in the crosshairs of complacence.
I hoard what I can't afford to sell.
Buried deep what my lips hurried to tell
I don't mean to decorate
With pretty fallacies,
Pretense, or petty malices.
I exasperate,
I am inadequate.
