I hail from lands that might seem strange to you my dear
So I have many things to tell you
But I waste much time in trying to make the story short
and encoding it in the language you understand
Sometimes I get lost in poetic mazes of my own making
As for my bloodshot eyes
it's just a thing that comes with writerly insomnia
But you see
the thing with writerly insomnia is life threatening:
I have been staring at blank pages for hours
pondering:
the ink I put, wont it only yield blotted pages?
©victorpoetry
Apr 2, 2017
Apr 2, 2017 at 6:20 PM UTC
I hail from lands that might seem strange to you my dear
So I have many things to tell you
But I waste much time in trying to make the story short
and encoding it in the language you understand
Sometimes I get lost in poetic mazes of my own making
As for my bloodshot eyes
it's just a thing that comes with writerly insomnia
But you see
the thing with writerly insomnia is life threatening:
I have been staring at blank pages for hours
pondering:
the ink I put, wont it only yield blotted pages?
©victorpoetry
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