I tried to talk to my pen,
Maybe it will hear me.
I tried to talk to my paper
Maybe it will feel my thoughts.
I tried to talk to the ink
Maybe it will lay itself
I tried ….
No one is listening
I tried to talk to my fingers
To hold the pen more gentle
But instead it’s grip was dreadful
I tried to bath my thoughts in wine
Maybe drunk they will fall themselves on the paper
No one is listening.
Yelling in the land of the deaf
I tried to talk to myself
But myself and my thoughts were to drunk to listen
Tired and alone I stopped trying
This came out .
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