this pain wants expression
i do not know how to
grant it
there are no reassuring
voices here
no patient ears
who listen
there are no eyes
to soothe the nerves
no beings who will still
the restless soul
these lines are obscenities
wrung out from
unwilling times
vulgarities which chill
the consciousness
of pride
mirrors of pacelessness
i reel under the uselessness
of my days
what words i have spun
from idle days
what creations made
in vacuum walls
in the vacancy of all
i grant myself
one consolation
its the likes of these
called poets, i hear
they leave behind
literature
i am told
i do not know how to
grant it
there are no reassuring
voices here
no patient ears
who listen
there are no eyes
to soothe the nerves
no beings who will still
the restless soul
these lines are obscenities
wrung out from
unwilling times
vulgarities which chill
the consciousness
of pride
mirrors of pacelessness
i reel under the uselessness
of my days
what words i have spun
from idle days
what creations made
in vacuum walls
in the vacancy of all
i grant myself
one consolation
its the likes of these
called poets, i hear
they leave behind
literature
i am told
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