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Metamorphosis; in irregular meter?
I love life every day
In each and every way
Kafka would be proud, to find out
I’m certain of the end
It’s the means that has me spooked
It takes an unknown truth to get out
I’m guessing I’m born free, silly me
I was meant to beg from my knees
That's the Smashing Pumpkins' Doomsday Clock... I think your poem is beautiful, reminds me of fragmented tapestries of memory, colliding in the grey fog of dawn. Did you mean to have unbalanced meters?
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Sab Kuch Tick Tock Hai
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