Open the door into an avenue
Where words are formed
And fall onto the page
Black is the ink
That scars the writing
Facile is the thought
That is sent to offer
Stalled is the sentence
All is not first in thought
Supercilious is the adjective
That threatens the poems simplicity
I write in the dark
I write in the light
A search for a synthetic twilight
Aug 26, 2016
Aug 26, 2016 at 3:26 AM UTC
Open the door into an avenue
Where words are formed
And fall onto the page
Black is the ink
That scars the writing
Facile is the thought
That is sent to offer
Stalled is the sentence
All is not first in thought
Supercilious is the adjective
That threatens the poems simplicity
I write in the dark
I write in the light
A search for a synthetic twilight
We all struggle to complicate life
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