Do You Have Another Pen?


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.

for understanding 

is truly all she asks



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