Puzzled: a poem By John McKinley Pride Jr

"Puzzled"

I look into this corner blind folded with my hands tide behind my back.

Pieces of my soul like boulders in my hands; with my head and thoughts up against the wall.

It is so hard to choose rite from wrong; when there’s so much more wrong than rite and there is too much time wasted playing games with life and counting how many tears have hit the floor.

So I send pieces of my self up to you hopping you know what to do with it; hopping you could put it back together; hopping that the pieces of my self can come back together again.

Pieces of my soul gathered up and thrown into the sky plucked from out of the clouds by angles.

Put back together by truth never to descend again what once was a puzzle now is a new life.

By John McKinley Pride Jr.
©11/16/’96

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