I have let them go to the sky, releasing them there
And it seems they fly away, taking my care.
‘Til they boomerang returning to where
They could drag me down into my despair.

I have spit them into a spirited bottle.
I have run them over at full throttle.
I have killed them with every kind of drug.
And still they cling, grasp and hug.

Why these feelings forever must stew?
This concoction that makes emotions in you.
And if they ever left me, I’m sure I’d see
That without these feelings, I’m just not me.

© Christopher Allen Breidinger

Excerpt from the book “Poet Christopher’s
Scenes, Dreams, and Golden Schemes”

Visit Author Page At:
http://www.ctupublishinggroup.com/christopher-allen-breidin…