Poem: Forsaken

Quote of the day: 

In spite of everything I shall rise again: I will take up my pencil, which I have forsaken in my great discouragement, and I will go on with my drawing. -Vincent Van Gogh

You were careful.
Careful in a carefree world.
Neither wavering or being impartial.
A growing fetus uncurled.

You were often unjust.
Earth spinning on its axis daily.
Tomorrow you regain life's trust.
A soul breathing baby.

You were deserted.
Trusting no one and being hush-hush.
Mysteries of the universe closely guarded.
A painter without a paintbrush.

You were mostly drinking.
Only then did your dreams come alive.
Circumspect but often misguided thinking.
A colony within a beehive. 

You sat shirtless banishing any shame.
But then again welcomed pride openly.
A picture paints a thousand words you proclaim.
A penny for each probity. 

Your blessing arrived in disguise.
Terrible wig, fake mustache and hair.
Life is a race with no trophy or prize.
A method to madness everywhere.

You cry over spilled milk today.
But take little notice of the broken glass.
Which side is the wrong side of the bed you lay.
A tip of black sand in a hourglass.


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The above poem is my take on writing in second person as mentioned in my previous post. Let me know your thoughts on this form of writing. Do you enjoy reading it as a poem? Have you read any books written in such form?

Related: Another one of my poems written in such form


Peace. Love. Light* 



Current Listen: Art Blakey & the Jazz Messengers - 'Moanin'