words, that bleed without blood. freeze without ice. burn without fire. kill without a sword. and cry without a single tear.
I, a poet.
i write no love
no ink but blood
scraped words on my palm
staring with a blank face
no strain
of pain.
no dew drops
not even a shame
never touch a soul
of a poet
bet you can’t
you wish you wouldn't
No comments:
Post a Comment