There was never paper
only ink,
I tried to talk but
couldn't think;
and as I watched the pigment
I lost my train of thought;
my argument
lost or maybe was just
a figment of my imagination;
Is this just?
A placebo numbs the pain
that was never there to gain;
for existence is an only child
to a parent who never was.
Tragedy is a mellow colour
mildly wild in a forest of loss.
Careless stutter to find an answer
you write and write and write.
What was the question?