I’m writing again
This time, using some other
Poor writer’s hand.
This hand I talk of –
- Well, let’s not bother with that
But the things I write of
Are not the usual stuff.
I can’t seem to find the
Meaning, says Andy.
Where’s the symbolism,
Says Christy.
And let’s not even get to
Ronny, who doesn’t even exist.
Such poor talks make for
Poor conversations.
The only hand that would
Bother to write of them
Is a lonely one.
This hand I talk of
Communicates through
The dashes of my fingers,
And edits through the films
Of my eyes.
But no longer is it connected
To my body.
And least of all, my heart.
|
Submission Name: Incomplete Rebirth
