When the shell of my being
No longer contain my emotion,
I write
For the strength to drink
The bitter potion of life,
I write.
As the patrons scream
My well being to me.
I write.
In the quest for dreams
As fears descend like a thick fog,
I write
Even when these thoughts turn to ashes
And the poet lies frail in me,
I write.
Jun 2, 2018
Jun 2, 2018 at 12:46 AM UTC
When the shell of my being
No longer contain my emotion,
I write
For the strength to drink
The bitter potion of life,
I write.
As the patrons scream
My well being to me.
I write.
In the quest for dreams
As fears descend like a thick fog,
I write
Even when these thoughts turn to ashes
And the poet lies frail in me,
I write.
