This is the time to write.
Nobody
listening
Nobody
in my mind
Nobody
to remember.
It's time to write,
because I clawed,
at my vanity,
I beat against such a big wall,
maybe getting at the tower of...
Blank Cd's
and
a bed that swallowed me up,
a gushing river and I...
Used my hands to tear...
Right into an echoing smile
that sits on my lips,
like the idiot
who talks in another's voice.
It was only my closet whispering
and my clothes that said
What would I have left?
From the woman I can't change
to the girls who'd change me,
what would I have left?
A marble of honesty,
to shoot across silent universe?
Shedding coats, with symbolism
my ancestors
painstakingly took
millenniums to create
and the clever little poet's
cliches and emotions.
So this is the time to write,
when nobody is reading
and nobody will hate reading
what I hate writing.
it's wonderful what comes out when you write for nobody. honest and thought provoking.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
i jus need to frankly accept the fact tat am out of words really. u took me to ur world thru those lines. such maturity. i wish i too could write like u some day.