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Impotence

My body is glass shattering in the breeze;
my mind, a blade that cannot cut;
my words are spears that cannot pierce;
my doubt, a door that cannot be shut.

My regret is oil burning in the rain;
my passion, tinder that cannot ignite;
my dreams are feathers that cannot take flight;
myself, a poet who cannot write.

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Murmurs In His Sleep

I can still remember
those words he whispered in his sleep,
“I lost something that was precious to me,”
something that he never told me.
Was it nothing more than a meaningless mumble
or was he dreaming of the secrets that he kept?

He never talked about the past,
he looked right through me whenever I asked.
I tried to comfort him when he cried,
but even when I was holding him in my arms
the sadness never seemed to leave his eyes.
All I wanted to know was why.

Spit Fire

I can feel the anger burning in my stomach
like a pool of lava boiling in my gut.
There is nothing that I can do
but keep my mouth closed and let it pass through
because I do not want to spit fire at you.

I can feel the anger burning in my stomach
like a pool of lava boiling in my gut.
There is nothing that I can do,
I cannot bear the pain of it passing through
and so I am going to spit fire at you.