a tear rolls
it falls
into the nib
the nib of my pen
as my head rests
on my hand
it falls into the nib
and pain gets diluted
words come out weak
emotion colourless
sorrow has no language
these lines can i give them
some form
can i put all that i feel
for you to know
can i paint them
with agony, and
drench them with tears
no
it will never carry
all that i did
never spill over
the dam that withheld
the burden that is
of untold truths
and half lies
it will be a sordid story
a broken nib in hand
a stolen life behind
one day i will
quietly fade away
a sad demise
a
poem stuck in the throat
this is very good
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