No more
my fingers cant type
my pen ran out of ink
there are no more trees for paper
no more words to speak
no more music for a song
no rhythm for a hum
no lead in the penicils
How will we carry on?
My eyes are all dry
My hopes will only shrink
there is only light from this taper
no more room for us freaks
no excuses when youre wrong
no hope to not be dumb
no creativity just stencils
How will we get along?
👁 2💬 0
Something wrong with this poem?
Replies are closed for this poem.
Your Poem's Voice
See what makes your poem unique — its voice, energy, themes, and the literary traditions it draws from.
Comments (0)
No comments yet. Be the first to share your thoughts.
Log in to leave a comment.