If you weigh yourself against my ink,
you would still not weigh more,
your soul would, though,
full of grief and torment,
silently held!
you would still not weigh more,
your soul would, though,
full of grief and torment,
silently held!
Is Death more poetic than a poet?
Always painful or quick:
binary like a man's mind?
I can compose lies and make them truth,
make them epics...
you shall cry
for wars which never prevailed,
and yet, learn lessons
of choices and Death,
Always painful or quick:
binary like a man's mind?
I can compose lies and make them truth,
make them epics...
you shall cry
for wars which never prevailed,
and yet, learn lessons
of choices and Death,
real, co-existing, true!
I cannot wait for another day!
time is a lie
like a flirting poet,
always better at youth,
unpleasant when old!
Time to leave my ink behind!
I take my soul
to prove how poetic I am!
Does the world on that side prevail?
Are there rebellion poets?
Are there poetry fests?
I love the pancakes!
Will Death listen to my sonnets?
Ah! Wait!
He is binary, isn't it?
Why does it sound poetic to me? Ugh!
No comments:
Post a Comment