Life in circles,
It’s all a scene.
To those who understand,
You know what I mean.
Confusion is set.
Pain is left linger.
No words for a poet.
No words for a singer.
These letters arranged,
Make not a bit of sense,
Why is that?
Because I’m too tense.
6-10-1987 Wednesday
Written by Gail Brookshire
PS. If this poem makes you want to shout,
Then don’t even try to figure it out.
Because you’ll never know what it’s about.
PSS… the extra note at bottom was written then too.
gaillovesgodspoetry 