plans calm thought spirals
when goals appear, unobtainable
will the choices I make
ever feel good enough?
and it is rough
to think too long—
or not long enough
about the living cost
bombs only obliterate
a willingness to go
on and on and on.
each day presents a new form of occupation.
lately, I have been attempting
to write a letter
full of unspoken words
until sleep comes.
memories of an unresolved past.
I love this, but I have to be honest. It was your title that caught my attention. I wrote a poem about an unfinished poem and a few people commented that their poems are never truly finished. Each poem changes through time, by the reader and by the author. By the way that it is read out loud. It sometimes the words of the poem change metaphorically and sometimes they literary change, leading the poem to be rewritten and tweaked by the author. I thought about it the feedback, and I realized that I was talking about half written poems, and not unfinished poems. Again, great poem.
A well rounded poem!