I've lost my sense
For poetry
My substance
Has faded
Degraded
By the winds
Of scorched time
My pen
Replaced by machine
My passion
Dried up
Like the streams
Of those
Synonymous dreams
No more ink
No more words
Only numbers
And filthy papers
Remain
"If the world treats you with silence, or with an indifferent nod, one of the reasons may be your inability to express yourself. Perhaps, you say the wrong things, or the right things in the wrong way."
