aspirations on mantle piece rust, <br />the mirage of a managable life <br />smothered by thin air, <br />nothing here, <br />nothing there, <br />i give nothing <br />but nothing seems fair. <br /> <br />self esteem on polished mirror taunts, <br />haunts my blind spot, <br />as i twist almost as fast <br />as my back evades my sight, <br />nothing wrong, <br />nothing write, <br />righting, written wrongs <br />through long imesurable nights. <br /> <br />crooked smile on bewildered face drips, <br />lists deformities of mine <br />through silence and distance, <br />i dismiss this involuntary resistance, <br />no assistance, <br />alone defenseless, <br />defendeing deaths right to <br />pervert the gift of life. <br /> <br />death is the tunnel <br />life is the light.<br /><br />mike mcnickolas<br /><br />http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/a-world-view-in-a-church-pew/
