Quaranzine

Sonnet 27 Remix

by Anonymous

 

It is not weary with toil that I haste

But weary with lives that cannot be led

Things taken for granted now in dreams faced

The past now wakes me at night in my bed

Since I can’t hold to the things I once did

To cling to what matters is my escape

Emotions that in busy days were hid

Blend into a bizarre, profound landscape

Spinning around, the lives I live conjoined

Thoughts turn to cursive, collage, and my voice

Names for a feeling that have not been coined

And in the restraint, there is still a choice

I feel what I feel; in that, choice is rare

Both turmoil and strength now surpass compare