Flowery speech does not affect me.
I stray away from eloquence–
believing strength within the small,
the quaint, and sometimes dreary
simplicity of the mundane.
Choosing words that mean little to nothing,
unless put in a place that make sense,
perhaps, with a plebeian level of discontent.
Simple nature calls to me,
no chance for misinterpretation,
’tis what it is, a demonstration;
the righteous extent of physicality.
Humanity reaching for a branch
just beyond grasp, a risk for it all
while an uncertain future awaits
seeming far off in the distance.

This entry was posted in Poetry.

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