Uncanny
My brother In a wheelchair:
I’ve summoned your brother to gain in days
He’s met with plummeting to his will
His righteousness is frail as he sits in a wheelchair,
You say his hope is frightful
May I excuse your prone to unfit mentations
I pronounce to you his might is sought after
These days in times of such reunion of what is bought
Rather than condemning bright for esteeming their ways in much light
I accuse you of yielding your manner so often
And lays dying your will of empowerment in what you say
As uncanny.
You see he offers more insight than any regard to your sanity.


Posted by in Poetry