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Shall I break all my bones to sing my song

Will I learn how to set the fire on

before them

How can you

As they hold your writst

hard

The poison in their heart

Makes your fingerprints weak

A gift

I was

Burning bright

Now the smoke is on my way

Shall I

No

I long to be heard

How can words not feel this heavy in their tongue

While it crushes me
Mercan Arapoglu Jul 2023
I feel like a traveling soul,
Living this half-empty life with a misty smell,
Of the past or the future following.

Chasing the half-full memories,
Mourning the unremembered past and the everlasting future.

Hearing the laughs from the other room,
Every time I tie my shoes,
Running to chase, God knows what.

Seeing time as sunbeams hit the free dust in the air,
Clicks of the open window,
Squeaking tiles in the throne room.

As I write my poem with mold,
Painting while the soulless ink drips from my pen,
Singing the puzzling history,
Will it ever be solved?

If death loses its meaning,
How can life remain any?
Claps,
Raindrops,
That one last note of that song…

— The End —