a fragile heart, stand it so brave, it won't last for good, leave it on edge, it'll jump with an outburst, swiftly like leaves flying at fall, wrathful like a senseless war, they said " you're so much alike to him", and i wondered how history works, how it keeps writting off names, a pattern of repetition, the thought of a breakable heart, scares more than a thousand of ghosts, and i swore to dad, never should i take advantage, of one's heart, neither mine too.
I need to save you from writer's block before you're outlined with chalk so I outline a prompt to lift you off but I don't know what to suggest your next project a must my advice you trust I hand you dust which isn't much to work with won't make any short lists after your ignored fists abort this failed attempt to help with ideation your writing equals my elation so talk about migration or my nation just don't let that shining sun set I'm sure you'll become unvexed once you're creating subtext after finding a subject.
on the wall hung a clock melting in the day's ire running toward the ground, it ran fast sometimes and occasionally mind numbingly sluggish
in the washbasin the rags i wore soaked in a soapy stillwater waiting for the wash that these tired hands must do
these blemished hands how they hurt strained from work like the oil stains on his shirt they are worn they are torn and are without comforting though his resolve is strong his will is weak from the havoc wreaked from a life of low pay struggling to live week to week knowing you deserve better