Crumpled paper
creased beyond repair,
cast in exasperation
from a corner, glare.

Proof of irritation
an act of my contempt
for this, my situation
for being nonexempt.

A deadness percolates
thoughts refuse growth
the thing one loves,
slowly steeped in loath.

All a point of view
mutilated page
silence feeding ghosts
rising poets rage.

©2021 Mary Grace van der Kroef