Midnight Poet Strikes Again - The 13th Egg

When you don’t fit,

When your lack of wit

Turns possibilities to stone,

When you still feel unknown

And your center feels scrambled,

The chances to play

Feel gambled

Away.

I long to be folded in,

Remaining intact,

But not when alignment

Feel so inexact.

For I am the eye,

You’re flashy and stormy

And though you’ve your torrents

Tempting to lure me

With crests that are thrilling

Stirring and chilling,

These waves always crash.

Thrill’s gone in a flash.

And even the gleam of

Your smiles sincere

Are giving me only the

trace of veneer,

Not sure I want to explore

Or find more

In your circle of distrust.

I must

Separate

And extricate

From your whipped up frenzy.

Down the green, I’ll roll and run.

Please lift the flag for my hole in one.

- Matthew LaBanca, Midnight Poet Strikes Again