T. Protus Thusi Poet Free verse

I'm Not A Poet

I'm just a boy with ink-stained fingers,
A canvas of paper, and a mind that lingers
In the shadows of doubt, where words lose their way
And the silence screams louder, with each passing day

My words are but whispers, lost in the wind
Doodles and scribbles, with no rhyme or reason within
I search for a melody, a harmony to share
But my voice is a murmur, a faint echo, beyond repair

Perhaps I should surrender, lay down my pen
Admit that my words are but ashes, not the flames I've sought within
But still, I'm drawn to the silence, the emptiness of the page
A siren's call, beckoning me to fill the space

So I'll scratch at the quiet, with fevered hand
And hope that somehow, someway, my words will stand
Not as a poet, but as a soul laid bare
A fragile, flickering flame, that dares to share.

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