Purple's Platitudes

nothing but words …

the toy

21 April 2014



phantoms march, I dream awake,

try to run from my mistakes,

predestined or free will,

this path that I must take?


I wish no one any ill,

nor regret my journey, still

though sometimes by my own hand,

I’d not have swallowed bitter pills.


I’m not haunted by failed plans,

but by what I understand,

not blurred edges, but the clear,

where the fires of choice were fanned.


these reflections in the mirror,

endless questions, ceaseless jeers,

am I the captain of my soul,

or the toy of puppeteers?




21 April, 2014 - Posted by | Poetry | ,

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