Poems from MMAfan
The sky is cold
No sun is here
But grayness
a road
stretching forever
across bombed countries
smoking ashes of once-great cities.
So often I sit down here and nothing comes.
My hand is thirsty for the pen, the sound of
it on the paper is like the rush an addict gets...
Real knowledge can only be expressed though frail
mediums
Yet people don't understand that stone is weak
Weaker than this, at least
But...
all signs say you're
waiting for something you lost
Looking
not
hoping
but hoping still inside
while the great white world
rages around...
you've killed me, he says laughing
and staggers backwards into the edge
of the light where something
messes his hair.
he's annoyed, but...