Conniving
A trap laid, perhaps not conciously,
but deadly just the same.
And when evaded, more spring up,
these more obvious,
more intentional.
These traps are questions.
Questions with a wrong answer
and a right one,
in your mind, at least.
And unless I give you the answer you want,
you plague me with more questions,
trying to lure me to where you wish I was.
These traps can’t be escaped,
not completely.
Instead, they must be spotted,
avoided, and ignored.
Posted on April 21, 2013, in Poetry and tagged life, poem, Poetry. Bookmark the permalink. 2 Comments.
I love this! Dark and yet, determined:)
Thanks so much! I wrote this one off the cuff, I’m glad it came out well.