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Cormac Rada Sep 2011
I've got these ink stained hands

untouchable, unwashable

even by the sands of time

ink stained by my words

Words I say, Words I write, Words I hold

words written on the page

concealed within my heart

The words I still hold

ink rubbed off from my

hands,my heart, my soul



Seen by many, Understood by none

fallen on the deaf , the blind, the dumb

fallen on the ground, slipping through the streets

in between the cracks

left to walk back and forth

left inside its crying cradle

Yearning to be with more



    Words that I hold

no matter how heavy ,

no matter how long

I'm Atlas,holding on as long

as I can-

Until I let go-

and I watch them spill out from my hands

to those loose leaf pages

margins too small

filled with words with the beating sweat of my palms

Sweat smeared pages so sweet

It's a living, breathing, part of me

So Spoiled

Sitting there so comfortably

disreagrading the silly lines that try to keep them neat



No more lines left on the leaf

no more words spilling out from me

left in this body

Sealed and Shut



I can't do it

I give up



-CQR

— The End —