H.G. Wells – Poetry

Mentally Constipated

Verbally emasculated

time spent on others, building precious presents filled with moments shared,

while I, the time traveler have not a minute to spare,

no fuel to go back to beginning,

and let loose a flood of liberation.

Pupils dilated, yet the future can not be seen-

just a blank screen

and blurred blurry brown eyes, puffy puffed eye lids,

clouded from capturing tears. Nothing left behind but the

thoughts of a shattered future swim around the broken time machine.

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