Breathe In My Words
Through glass eyes
And clouded dreams,
With porcelain skin
Sitting in phleum-
My words have grown
And sprouted trees
From ink on paper
Into man's seas.
With composed agony
And delicate sorrow,
My hand soars high
As I ride the morrow-
My mind breathes
Words my lungs borrow
To begin to think
What to write tomorrow.
With night blood
And endless time,
With waves of bronze
I give you rhyme-
My tears have spoken
Through endless crime
Only to be ignored
Like elegant windheim.
Through the gaze
Of a simple stoic,
With darkened thoughts
That taste caproic
Is all I can give,
Although it-
After all,
I'm only a poet.
