Motionless
A rock sits in the mud, sinks
further with time.
It’ll never be free of its muck, clinging
to its jagged skin.
But still, it sits in the sludge; a rock
can’t move, you see.
Not on its own.
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A short poem I wrote yesterday, expressing the feeling of being stuck. I'm not that experienced in writing poetry, so would love feedback from poets.
A rock sits in the mud, sinks
further with time.
It’ll never be free of its muck, clinging
to its jagged skin.
But still, it sits in the sludge; a rock
can’t move, you see.
Not on its own.