Poetry

Fast Food

C. D. Anders

Weight of the world sounds pleasant

when all the griefs to bear

crush the soul and body both.

Can’t be strong, can’t be weak,

can’t be weak enough to admit

that I’m stuck

nor strong enough to admit

that I’m weak.

I guess you are what eats you

when you go about

setting your own table.

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Published by C. D. Anders

I'm a pessimistic optimist of sorts. I'm no professional, just a feller writing for fun and occasionally commenting on posts I enjoy. "I'm but a stranger here . . . "

One thought on “Fast Food”

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