All the five hundred drafts and counting I am so bad at finishing Each line lyric rhyme Hoping for a masterpiece Or a mirror to my mind Nothing is certain till it ends And it twists all the thought.
A surprise for few lines An emotion to hide Many people to confide Some memories to write A few to ignite Each word to choose and another to bind.
Inert satisfaction a final completion First to last transition Inking blues And curves in precision An unknown outcome Likesome to troublesome to be posted on a wall.
A thousand story to a thousand journey a thousand pens to the thousand poems a thousand drafts that leaves no mark a thousand words that no one hears cause the other thousand you wrote will cover them
I leave no mark to my drafts, Im sorry fallen ones
