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.

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Posted on April 21, 2013, in Poetry and tagged , , . Bookmark the permalink. 2 Comments.

  1. I love this! Dark and yet, determined:)

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