Lost Words
A midnight scribble,
a morning sigh;
you watch the words
curl up and die.
Madness lives
inside your head,
of poems lost
and pages dead.
A mind possessed
by unmade books
unwritten lines
on empty hooks.
By Michael Faudet
YOU ARE READING
Poems, Quotes & Just Stuff
PoetryPoems about Life and its Flaws https://www.amazon.com/dp/B08F2F9G2N/ref=cm_sw_r_cp_awdb_t1_aWpjFbZCXHZDX
