sensing dis-satisfaction

Sometimes it feels as though

The ink’s run dry;

Thoughts, ideas escape,

_Inspirations are fake.

 

Sometimes it tastes as though

The flavours are bland;

No herbs, a lack of salt,

_A dish at fault.

 

Sometimes it appears as though

There’s nothing to see;

Same old, nothing new,

_Sights be few.

 

Sometimes it sounds as though

A record is stuck;

Repeating,

_as flat as the ground.

 

Sometimes it smells as though

Your nose is blocked;

Aroma none, numb and dull,

_A feast of hell.

 

 

 

Maybe this time a change must come;

New choices, new experiences

For all sensations,

_An adventure has begun.

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2 thoughts on “sensing dis-satisfaction

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