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Click hereThe World Tilted
The world tilted
Slowly, unnoticed, but by painful degrees.
It became not black nor grey, nor wall or fence.
Too cunning to be physical, allowing battle before winning
But fog, a red, slow bleeding, fog
Seeping into everything held dear
Viewed, through the pain of insidious life
Fight or flight?
Choices made then cast aside, to be made again and again.
Repeating patterns, no chequered flag to call halt
To fly briefly or melt into the redness of nothing?
How can you fight fog?
You have some lines which I really like, such as
"But fog, a red, slow bleeding, fog
Seeping into everything held dear",
but in other places I get somewhat confused.
I guess in part because your antagonist is internal?
Its not the literal physical world which tilts (I could say something about that), but your perceptions of your life.
I like the beginning lines, too (I'm not looking for a poem on geodynamics). It seems like you may be making reference to some specific event(s) or set of feelings, but that gets lost.
Keep writing