Ennui By Allison Toomer
I am unsure of what to write, No pain stabs through me Like a blade, a sword, a pike, Nothing is a quiet, falling tree There are no strings of words That are strung up like laundry In the wind with the songbirds Singing about a quandary There are all scattered rhymes, Thoughts that grow like wild peas, Easy to catch the wind like a kite And busier than a honey bee Were pain a ravenous wild herd, I would welcome it without warning, But it is a clever, quick hummingbird And I need something daunting And while I browse my thesaurus, For words that describe my boredom In this drawn-up lyrical chorus, Allow me to end here.––
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