Why do I find more
comfort
in the pen in my hand
and the tear stained paper before my eyes than real
people?
Real people with
mouths to comfort,
and empathy they
choose
not to use.
Why is it that
inanimate objects
have far more sympathy
than them?
Why does ink hold my hand,
but a person
won’t?
Dec 21, 2024
Dec 21, 2024 at 5:52 PM UTC
Why do I find more
comfort
in the pen in my hand
and the tear stained paper before my eyes than real
people?
Real people with
mouths to comfort,
and empathy they
choose
not to use.
Why is it that
inanimate objects
have far more sympathy
than them?
Why does ink hold my hand,
but a person
won’t?
Request permission to use this poem