deepundergroundpoetry.com
Thoughts
They want me to speak
But my thoughts are silence
My poetry has fallen - who will lift it?
The living minute is a heavy
prison door and far beyond my walls
a women hums a very old air
an air that comes from far before childhood
Her face is closed
The images are broken
They want me to speak
But my soul is silence
But my thoughts are silence
My poetry has fallen - who will lift it?
The living minute is a heavy
prison door and far beyond my walls
a women hums a very old air
an air that comes from far before childhood
Her face is closed
The images are broken
They want me to speak
But my soul is silence
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