Nowhere To Go
All through the day it was irritation with noise
that led the way, knowing there is nowhere to
turn, nowhere to go, nothing to say, nobody
interested, my head feeling thick, me being
dumb - I could not read a book - could not
hold up my head - not stand the infernal
noise of the radio, my room a tomb
Cold emanating from the icy stones - maybe I
was Aunt Branwell in a previous life, stomping
around in wooden clogs in the old home where
authors Charlotte, Emily and Anne & brother
Branwell - wrote their books, whatever the
case, I feel ill with a burning throat, mind
scrambled - maybe this is not a poem
[Charlotte, Emily, Anne and Branwell Brontë]
poem by Margaret Alice Second
Added by Poetry Lover
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