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l am leading with a limp
l thought l could write
My pen is made of broken reed
It fangs like an udder
My thoughts slip away into mysteries
Mysteries so great for mastery.
The paper dampens and breaks from my drooling lips.
My eyes lose vision to my tears
What can an empty heart teach?
Can there be any wisdom in a broken soul?
My legs shiver to an unknown rhythm simultaneously
My belly grumps a roulade only l can understand.
Surely what can an empty heart teach?
What can a haunted soul deliver?
Struggling to breathe in a quicksand situation
Battling to keep on with the tigers
Duelling for recognition
Im leading with a limp.
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