Ragged pile of bones
Clawing through the streets
A drop of water, a grain
Show the mercy
Bestow it upon me
Fellow brother, sister
Look down and
see me.
Help me.

all poetry is personal
some more than others

to just spread out your private feelings
     in your verse
may not be everyone's delight

but if you choose words
so that the many find their voices
    in your own
you may be lucky
to achieve all poets' dreams

your personal voice
becomes the public

I felt it in the air
this cold, grey weather
it was the same as last year
when I was happy
shook it off because
it made me tense
because now I can finally
smile without you