Silent words written
By an empty pen
Void of ink, it
Only scratches, no stains
Mar the unblemished clean
Snow-white purity of paper
Like a lone voice
In the midst of this
Bustling modern city
The crowd that talks,
Never listens and the
Honks of metal machines,
Rumbling of mechanic gears grinding
Drowning me out
Drowning us out
We, the young
Still immature, still un-wise
Are neat words scrawled
Silently and unseen
Invisible to most who read us
Thinking themselves so clever
That they read between the lines
Ignoring the plea for help
Etched deep into the pages
Only we know our secrets
Feeling the unseen words engraved
Pain expressed as chicken scratch
Unknown to the world
Who sees, only just
Blank paper
YOU ARE READING
Tears Of The Rose
PoesíaA. Ton. Of. Random. Poems. Just warning you. The poem that inspired the title of this book: Tears of the Rose A rose Is a prickly thing Armed with barbed thorns Stinging like thousands of merciless Bees that hover protectively Over their prize. Rose...
