TashPoetryThis
is
a
waste
of
space.
—
No place
for reflection,
not for
redemption,
but a tick,
tick,
tick.
—
The type
that sucks
your blood
when you're
not looking.
—
It happens
when you are
scrolling,
eye-rolling,
over absolutely
nothing
worth anything.
Owen G. Richards - ANTIFAscistA heavy sense of frustration in those words... I hope it passes quickly.
@Owen_G_Richards This poem might be one of my examples of having too many double meanings. Ugh, in the case of 'tick', triple.
I think that is part of my frustration.
Perhaps it is, perhaps it's simply my perception that's skewed?
It did what poetry/writing is supposed to do - evoked a response/reaction.
Consider it, "job done!"
@Owen_G_Richards I can tick it off then.