Monday, 30 October 2017

I Write

I write
For wet concrete blocks and
Empty park benches,
Of ugly winter sweaters and
Unsaid forgotten thoughts.
For limp leaves and bright socks,
Lukewarm hearts and filthy weather.
To fill blank pages and 
Lonely memory slots.
To drink down daily nights and
For faithless sanity's sake.

I prefer
Pouring bleach on blood stains,
Melancholic life over dream constraints.
Flatlands over magical plains,
Observing grey everyday.
I prefer 
Enduring tragedies over
Fleeting calamities.
Come ask me why.
I write 
Brimming grins over 
Yearning lives.
Come ask me why.

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