cowardice
within this fragile soul dwells a timid fear
with resignation, in humble events i find
i linger over goals that might require
about this poem:
one of my less enjoyable evenings, spent contemplating the choices i'd made over the past 16 years and how i'd wasted a lot of time.
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by rhiannon macgregor
that keeps my feet aground and hinders any tread
upon paths i look to with longing, toward which i cannot veer
what is this frightening thing, this inner dread?
from without i shiver in the cold
bound to a heart that won't let me be bold.
joys and woes to placate my hungry soul
as daily my thoughts are left behind
as 'what if's' fill this empty whole
in retrospect i relive every day
and fancy myself bolder in other ways.
a brazen move, or some such mighty chore
and hesitate until the time expires
when decisions are a privilege no more.
then weep for all the joy that i have missed
in living with a soul thus cowardice-kissed.