The television showing our past
Historical events.
The radio playing tunes,
From our wasted unrealistic promises.
The ceiling fan of happiness is on
Whirling,
Yet blowing the uncomfortable airs of regrets.
The windows of moving on are open wide,
Yet the
poor ventilation of blame still
Lingering.
The air of regrets still hanging around,
Without any thoughts of reconsidering
The fresh airs of letting go circulate.
In this room I call self.
---Fampah Coyish---
©
By Fampah Coyish-Awoken By Poems 2015
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