A commotion of emotion.
An unrelenting forced devotion.
To the feelings trapped within us.
An unabated locomotion.
A swelling joy that fills inside,
Will only fleetingly abide.
Replaced by mournful, scornful moments.
A constant ebbing, flowing tide.
A drug, it tugs in different ways.
Envy, Triumph, Passion, Praise.
An opiod within us all.
Are these feelings we encase.
Whether anger, fear, or love so dear.
To these emotions we adhere.
An ocean full of constant change and mood
One thing’s for sure, they are sincere.
Elida Quinn Poetry 