Recycled Thoughts

If I had a voice to sing

With every breath my voice would ring

Out into every starry night,

And at the dawn

When my words have gone

I will with them take flight.

It is from their heart

That I'd take part

And build up an emotion.

The soul of emptiness

Which I have always felt

Would finally give way t' melt.

What shall I find there?

What shall they see here?

With what voice do I sing?

I with only borrowed words,

Secondhand obesssions split in thirds,

And small stolen feeling.

Whose voice does the night sing? 

Can a shadow's breath ring

Into such a well lit sky?

With what sound speaks my word?

Nothing about me is mine

Not even my rhyme.