put the pen down my lord
put it down please
no use of begging the lines for a space of illusion
pain has some sort of power
either to rise you above the breakage
or it will Barry you under its feet.
i’m haunted with freedom
i’m haunted with shores and green palm trees
but each time i open my eyes
all i see is deserts.
i smoke and smoke
in that process i don’t know who’s burning faster
the cigarette or me .
don’n fear what will be said
be aware of the unsaid.
a written letter like a silent will for the unseen muse
oh , i wish if i can carve my words on stones
words might shine one day.
pity if we leave without a trace.