The Foreign Concept: Poetry


The things that plague the mind
are always the same:

Little complaints about 
the responsibility of having
and the suffering of lacking,
the strain to achieve greatness
and the easy slide to failure,
the smothering expectations of love
and the abysmal state of loneliness

“Surrender,” these experiences
whisper all along;
Yet the heart clings to its wounds
as if this is a foreign concept.


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