Nothing Is Like Was Poem by Izobelle Pulgo
Nothing Is Like Was
a cluttered desk
was all that there was
and nothing else
nothing else
not even a mist
of what used to be
a truth
hovering, slowly creeping
into consciousness
nothing is
like was
and nothing was
like is
truth covering
darkness enveloping
losing edge
losing words
pens breaking
fingers bleeding
and all that's left
is
a cluttered desk:
nothing is like was.
it has all come
to
this.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
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9/19/2024 2:23:01 PM # 1.0.0.1119
