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 |   An experimental collection of exactly 100 words (mostly) |
| Prompt: A rhyming poem. Word Count: 100. I'm trapped in the depths of a mind that is weak Obsessively thinking of things I can't speak Good, bad, right, wrong, love burned down to dust Losing my soul in a maze of ashen mistrust Cold and confused, ever inward I turn Seeking the solace which forever I yearn Never quite finding it, though I struggle and strive I venture outward to look for something alive But I don't get far beyond my own pain A heart stuffed with foolishness, searching in vain Trivial bandaids peel open, ragged scars are exposed I stand alone, cold, confused, only misery composed. 2nd Place in "Fox's Socks Newbie Poetry Contest"  , July 2024 |
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Thanks for playing along and sharing about your muse on the Newsfeed game that [Link To User brennus] posted. Kindest Regards, Lilli *^*Floral5*^* "Most people wait for the muse to turn up. That's terribly unreliable. I have to sit down and pursue the muse by attempting to work." ~ Nick Cave](https://images.Writing.Com/imgs/writing.com/writers/badges/group-Coffee_with_Lilli-2149524_15.gif)
