Cells die as I refuse to let go
of the burning muse who doesn't know
My desire to boil away
By a fleeting sense of what could be
I'm fine with it if I knew
That it's not part of a plan
But of a poem incomplete
Jan 14, 2019
Jan 14, 2019 at 4:25 PM UTC
Cells die as I refuse to let go
of the burning muse who doesn't know
My desire to boil away
By a fleeting sense of what could be
I'm fine with it if I knew
That it's not part of a plan
But of a poem incomplete
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