To who do I write this?
To what god's feet do I carry my load
and demand a refund?
Is my poetry just cries of lonely entity
and just like me
it's swiped off from the canvas?
To who do I do this
in this mortal fury of mine,
in hope a stain that I leave behind?
Perhaps one lost poem with faded words,
and the beginning of my name
in this cruel morning of nothing.