Metered Poetry

Who would know?

Who would know?
Who knows anything at all?
As I live and breathe
And wrench out life like
I pluck the hairs from my brow

Who knows anything at all?

I am sunken
Somewhere gray
Somewhere the music
no longer plays
And I ponder
naught at all
For who knows the answer
for my fall

Downtrodden
in despair
Broken bones which 
I cannot repair
Still I have my
Siren song:

Who would know?
Who would know?
Who knows anything at all?

I write poetry, personal narratives and short stories. I'm always open to reaching and connecting with new readers, so leave me a comment or question. Let's start a dialogue! Don't forget to follow me here and on Twitter and Instagram! (@exisflor is my handle for all three sites)

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