30 days of poems 2019 {17}

.

.

a bed of frost

and a moment of calm
pull me deep
into a center
swirled with doubt

this is my cage
hung with beads
and sparkly bits
and holding me
camouflage
captive

while these
angst-coated questions
beat their tin-cup music
on pretty bars
and purple painted
barricade

.

. . . . .

 

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