The Perpetual Plight of Being

[rowens]

This poem almost makes it. I don't have much to say about it. Its theme works, its form fleeting and flighty enough. Maybe it could be revised some more in places, I don't know. There are lots of poems lamenting problems that don't offer any solutions. The plight is fine, but is there anything more to it? Why are thoughts imprisoned and fates sealed? They just are?