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Ryan Farrell

permanent

Clapping fades,
fists pound on the table,
Yet am I really able to forgive
the unforgiven.
An allocation of youth, the truth, under pretence, its’ patent pending, tending to the next page.
With penning unfinished, the scribbles diminished by fantastic impatience.
A cynical review of each of its creations.
 
Still I am young,
Mistakes I’ve sung,
But bitter words from mind to tongue.
I can’t see the present way I am,
Just old and future ways I’ll be and have been.

(2014)

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