Slave to myselfI have nothing to say.Neither you, nor myself,Nor in the world.I have no answers.I have no questions.I don't defend no dream, weakand ill, thousands of my desires,dust that remains.I don't have a god.I don't seek consolation.I can't give mercy.My time is marked by drops of blood, screaming metal. The rotSweet smell of decomposition.This land absorbs the blood of my wounds.
Another Illogical ThoughtA good poet should always have something wise to say.A good poet should have each dayA legendary phrase, to be left to mankind. But I don't have anything to say.I don't have the right inspiration to talk about the birds that soar in the sky,Or butterflies gently alight on flowers.Maybe I never had. Maybe.Let's talk about what is missing.Don't fill the papers saying shit to feel important.We don't use big words and nonsense words never used,To elicit shame those who don't know the meaning.Let's talk about what we are not capable of doing.Donate.Understand.Listen.A good poet should brighten your day,Talking about
Yet small, but very impressive!