Form: Beymorlin Sonnet
I sit alone on the stairs near the top
My thoughts, well, they sit on the lowest step
Not fitting together, no place to stop
In short, I’m like a kid while studying prep
I’ve lost the confidence to cry or smile
The feelings of nothing are hitting me
The cost of self is like the laundry pile
These healings are slow and they’re never free
I look at the wall as if it will speak
And see no answers to the things I ask
No book to tell all or show what I seek
But be it right I will meet this new task
The dare set by life in the broad daylight
Like air each breath is my own will to fight
©JG Farmer 2019
A Garret Poet 