The Flaky Derelict

Of masks, monsters and demons caged in my head.

Empty Vessel

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I do not know what to write anymore,

words are seeping

from my heart

to my pen,

to the floor

as I recall the man I once was before,

when I wrote of peace and children of war,

I wrote of sins and priests,

I wrote of men and beasts,

I wrote of silence among the crowds,

I wrote of stars among the clouds,

I wrote of death and the healing,

I wrote of the faithless and the believing,

I wrote in vain,

I wrote in pain,

and in the mosques I prayed

and from the wine I swayed

and in the coldness stayed

and in the darkness laid,

for I had wished for things,

for I had cared for bonds,

for I had longed for her,

but now,

no more.

Words are seeping

from my heart

to my pen

to the floor.

Image

Author: Zeus

I am the grey area, everything by choice and nothingness by choice, wherein everything is possible as it is improbable.

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