
I was a drum
So they beat me
I was left numb
They besieged me.
–
No cymbals or set
One single drum
Filled with regret
For loving some.
–
The beat moves on
Just like our lives
The past is gone
Like some ex wives.
–
I hold the sticks
Once handed out
No more cheap kicks
Boundaries about.
–
A drumming snare
With sticks of oak
Much more aware
Of all that’s spoke.
–
My head is tuned
The snares are right
Sadness consumed
Future looks bright…
-AAA 12/13/2024
A great inspiring poem with great analogies
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Thank you 😊
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