A really bad poem

I’m bound
to the sounds
that bind me.
Where I can find places
for my words
on lined pages
where I confess my mind
with a name signed in blood.
In this place
the kind
get underlined
and become inclined
to join a mankind
that’s been refined
just to be defined
by their design.
And what’s grown entwined
only reminds us
that we’ve now combined
those who’ve declined
and resigned
only to find
that special kind
who laugh so softly
the rest of us unwind.


About Sean O'Gorman

Spoken Word poet from Ottawa. View all posts by Sean O'Gorman

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