this is my first post in the poetry forum
i didnt know what i should call this but here goes..


the truth is seen, piercing through eyes of an old soul,
concepts in this world not yet grasped by a young mind,
empty places hidden in the corners the worlds one of harsh reality
visions affected by a uncertain clarity to which no logic is bound,
which makes one wonder, is there a place here, for a poor man,
or is time and emotion a set of words which we all follow strictly
if the past is never left to settle, is future already disturbed,
people see visions caused by the pain of an unbearing mother,
stories dont exist just a set of words created by imagination,
does poetry that dont ryhme have no inner meaning of portrayal,
like pieces of modern art, just a pointless waste of time,


well a short piece, but let me know what you all think???

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