Monday, March 30, 2015

No Poetry

There's this poetry inside me,
Words spinning around,

All this truth looking for a way out
Past the walls I've built -
- from everything we've lied about
From a foundation of fear and doubt

So my pen lies still, the paper is clear
But my mind is not

Because I'm afraid of what's in here
What has been lurking and how much?
What lies have been told, for how long?
Frankly, who have these lies fucked?

There's only so long I can stay
There's only so much I can take

Before this poetry ruptures this page.


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