Nonets Of Pain

This is how a poet like me cries

he writes and writes till it feels right.

His tears becomes some sad words

as they drop from his heart

unto the pillow

papered or pad,

no holding

Just soft



Digging into oceans, melting ice

suddenly I start feeling fright

Would I move on or hold cords

linking pasts torn apart?

This means of willow

leaves me so sad

with nothing

but loft


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