how many times did i write a musing /
because i couldn’t bear to end my life？
how many times did i write a poem /
because it was the only thing to numb the pain？
now my poems are empty
my words are dull
i am running out of things to numb the pain
& i wonder how many times
did i write just to live again？
YOU ARE READING
the still waters
Puisii stared into the abyss of blue‚ ripples distorting the image of a stranger. ﹛ a potpourri of words ﹜
