Writing a Poem In the Middle of a Pathway
writing a poem in the middle of a pathway
dying slowly from losing her because of myself
the paper is blank
the pen is unused
the tears come from nowhere
i am in a familiar place when i am lost
then all of a sudden, the words come, but then they leave again
i am cussing the air out, but there is a mirror in the sky
the paper is now filling up
the pen is now taking labored breaths
i am in a familiar place when i am lost
now the rain sneaks up and begins to fall quite heavily
my poem is ruined on the paper, but not in my head
i wish i could afford a computer, but i will just wait for the rain to stop
somebody must have heard me because 'boo!' says the temperamental sun
i get another piece of paper and start the poem over again
it comes out a bit differently, but the uneven rhythm of it is still the same
it is amazing what a broken heart can say
when writing a poem in the middle of a pathway
dying slowly from losing her because of myself
the fears come from nowhere
i am in a familiar place when i am paying the cost
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