the nights
have been dreary quiet
for quite a long time
gloomy skies,
inkless pens,
and chaotic rhymes—
nothing seems going right
scribbling words
on a torn out paper,
taking a sip from a coffee
that has gone cold
alone with all the blurry thoughts, left unheard in the deafening silence of a world.
a sudden, gentle breeze
enveloped his warmness
his eyes were
full of remorse
as he began reminiscence
alas, how could he
awake himself
from this nightmare?
being a bard
with no good words
to indite
is worse
than dwelling
in a beast’s lair.
the numbing
of his feet
is crescent—
his screams
ate the utter silence
yet no
one had
the desire
to listen.
his gaze found
the tenebrous abyss of ether;
for some reason,
the comforting stars in the
sea of darkness did
not make her feel better.
would it be better to
go away?
is it a sign
of cowardice
for wanting to leave
everything
in disarray?
the effulgent moon with its stars
illuminated each corner
of the room
silence so deafening,
everything was embraced
by gloom
each memory
brought nothing
but agony
how could a man
breathe
while it’s long dead
already?
scribbles 