The Clash

by Chris Arcus, copyright 2014

Five minutes to breath
Five minutes to sleep
No time to get hungry
No time weep
Half a block of frozen ice
Littered in a pen
Nothing but noise and confusion
But then
A stolen quiet moment
In the midst of a parade
A serious quiet moment

Then back to the clash
Of wounded hearts
And fearful minds
It doesn’t take any effort
To write poetry
About the effort
Of living
And the agony
Of being misunderstood.

Categories: poem by Chris Arcus

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