Without solid form...mass of no shape. Heavy yet soft...a velvet drape. Can't be contained...elusive haze. Transforms vision...a spectral maze. Origin unseen...mystery has spawned. It covers me now...its shroud I have donned.
Reason for writing:
This poem is about the emotional garbage that fills
our head. Its a fog because it distorts reality and
gives each of us our own personal perspective on
life. Noone ever sees things the same...
Birth sign: Not entered
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View more poems by Celena A. Brown-Scorpio.