Relief - Poem by Benjamin Wiche

My conscience speaks, I'm not a saint,
life journey must tame the actions I paint,
all I have done are in my past spent,
wanting to make history, a taste I can't quench,
striving to arrive at the destination sent,
so much huddle in this riddle,
how can I go without a dent,
thoughts occupying everywhere paying no rent,
straight is the way emotion wants bent,
this is a smoke i can't cope with,
to be transparent in all life event,
i need a vent.

Poems by Benjamin Wiche

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