why has the pen stopped?
the ink seems faded
words refuse to come out
is the poet dying?
is he...
heading for a breakdown?
or is it the urge to write
and the numbness of his thoughts
conspiring together to finish him off.
his papers fly off
they don't anymore, wish to be scrubbed on
his pen feels slaved
deep inside... he's bleeding
memories consumong him...
bit by bit
he's overwhelmed with emotions
but something in his throat, blocks the way
the poet... is alone, and wounded
and tired, and blamed
and his destiny
plays tricks on him
All's lost
but he doesn't want to give up
his hands are sore
and fingers trembling
he may not hold a pen again in his life
but will he be able to finish this one...?
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