Leaden foot unable to move;
Lasso tongue unable to speak.
What’s going on I wonder.
This usually is not me.
The parade of dolls strolling back and forth;
In the dim light, they all appear to be striking.
Like a flower stamp on the wall, I remained fasten.
Maybe a cocktail to remove timidity,
To gain confidence at least,
Well, I did not; I continued.
My night started with poetry in mind.
The writing of Marie Freda I began.
Single conversation for an excursion took over.
Apprehension during the drive,
Not quiet sure why.
A place I visited previous.
Foot nail to the floor.
Stitch maw, I remained mute.
The energy I could not feel.
Poetry, however, I wanted to write.
WallFlower, WallFlower wanted to flow.
Why am I here?
Answers, possible loneliness, or maybe boredom,
I am not sure.
After an hour, my body forms to the concrete wall.
Go home. Go home. I convinced myself.
WallFlower, WallFlower I wanted written on paper.
At last, I did it.
I wrote WallFlower.