The ink is running out,
The lines are not yet written,
To send the information about,
The cause with which I’m smitten.

The ink will not refill,
So writing is not yet possible,
To let people know my will,
The cause that I made visible.

The paper remains white,
The words are still in my head,
I cannot target those who I fight,
I will find other means instead.

The time is running out,
The heart is not yet smitten,
Of whom I always talk about,
About whom these words are written.

My heart will not refill,
It’s empty and all too cold,
I let her know I will,
Love forever till I’m old.

My soul remains white,
My voice is like a dove,
I can’t convince her I’m right,
That she needs my love.

Printer …
Fighting …
Election …
Love …
Sighting …
Rejection.