"transferee" poems
I find myself
getting lost
within the concrete
that is cold and cold
resigned to white walls
while the worth of my words
are measured
in glass flasks
there is no soul here after all
and I will soon grow
used to the blank stares
of mirrors
the hardness
of science
this time memories
of the sky
will not save me at all
from such a fate
May 21, 2015
May 21, 2015 at 10:08 AM UTC