Goodbye
Goodbye
The pen is alone, even with me
Writing is a frown,
Written upside down
And yet we escape with others’ words,
And our own,
From this life into reality
From misery to what?
Sometimes love, often hate
We await our fleeing
For the reality that isn’t
From their reality that is
Books and poems save us
Reality enslaves us
Poetry can free us
Allow my thoughts to fly
And me with them
Into our goodbye
Goodbye
Copyright © John Passant | Year Posted 2019
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