There are times i have words
but they fail to stick
long enough for me to speak.
My hands are forced into submission
my pen falls and ink spurts on my feet.
I feel like im locked in a box
visible to none.
I feel a rush to soar with the eagles
but i have no wings.
I stand in the sun
seeking answers,
but it scortches my skin.
I wait on the rain
to wash the ink from my feet.
But hushed is its answer.
I lay my head on the wet grass
and hope that when i wake,
my pen will forge a poem
from the whole experience.

#kyoe 2012


About kyoespeaks

“Write what should not be forgotten.” ― Isabel Allende View all posts by kyoespeaks

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