The Tempest in my mind is raging My Eyes are closed but I can feel, Gales of emotion that I'm facing, What is right and what is real?

Who knows, Who cares? Who wants to be, On a Journey to a higher state , Of rampant Mediocrity, Is this my only one true fate?

In Dreams...Who Cares?! Why am I still, Not down to earth, destiny's puppet, But In the clouds producing swill, Should I simply just forget?

These odes, or odours, whatever they are, Do they bring anyone joy anymore? or do they merely stink afar, Taking up space upon this board?

Perhaps they bore the pants off you, Mere guardians between the ages, So tiresome my feelings True, They merely are a waste of pages.

Not Author, or Poet, or Bard am I, Just a dreamer chasing an impossible dream, I can hardly crawl but pretend to fly, And now I've woken up it seems,

Perhaps I'll leave my work alone, Right in my head where it belongs, Not burden others with my Tomes, Just like I should have all along...

by Ellis Meredith-Owen