How much can I write,
until my soul runs dry,
just like this pen,
it isn't limitless.
Will there be a day when I cease to exist,
because a body can't survive without a heart
and my heart slowly transfers
to the seemingly fixed lines of poetry.
Am I the only one who sees them move,
the words flow and change
toppling over like dizzy children
trying to prove themselves.
Or is it just my nomad heart
refusing to see life set in stone
rules change, hearts change
everything is different,
But maybe it's just me.
Look carefully child.
can't you see the way her crystal tears fall,
slowly, capticating to only shatter on the unforgiving pavement.
Just listen quietly.
you can hear her voice howling louder
battered around by the cold metal city
begging someone to reply
Breath like every day before.
yet now don't you taste the struggle
the critical poison creeping in
overtaking every gust of real she exhales
Simply let yourself feel.
is truly all she asks