{"sf1_id":1011361,"sf2_id":"pnGPW3X1","title":"Tempo","author":"Diavora","words":96,"posted_at":"2016-05-25T07:52:00.000Z","tags":["Freeform","Poem","Poetry","Rhyme","rhythm"],"url":"https://fse.anthro.fr/stories/1011361-tempo","original_url":"https://sofurry.com/s/pnGPW3X1","image_url":"https://cdn.sofurryfiles.com/submissions/thumbnails/9b/41/9b41de84-9362-45ce-b197-ca750e58ca7f","description":"Desc from FA:\nAnother poem I wrote at the bus stop the other day. Writing helps me stay sane when I have to deal with strangers and moving about a lot.","content":"Forward through time, backwards through space,\n\nround and round, still I have no place.\n\n  \n\nMoving, stopping, seeking a thrill,\n\nor some kind of message that isn't a bill.\n\n  \n\nAll of these people to me have no face,\n\nas they all go 'bout the great human race.\n\n  \n\nNo need for love, no need for kindness,\n\nonly in green do they see any rightness.\n\n  \n\nThey move across town with purpose and will,\n\nwhile I'm left to grind and stew in the mill.\n\n  \n\nDeep in my mind they're all struck with blindness,\n\nas I return to my precious wildness.\n  \n  \n\n"}