Submit your work, meet writers and drop the ads. Become a member
May 2020
I have torn countless pages off of my copy
These hands do not dare rub the words
Every orphan paper a cup of sugarless coffee
Pencil morphs to shield, eraser be my sword

The room resembles a scrambled puzzle
However insignificant they all have a role
Silent yet powerful like guns with muzzle
Broken to the naked eye but contribute to a whole
Never regret your choices
Prabesh
Written by
Prabesh  25/M
(25/M)   
134
     Holly D and Bogdan Dragos
Please log in to view and add comments on poems