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a-proper-name — October
Published: 2008-10-19 04:58:52 +0000 UTC; Views: 252; Favourites: 0; Downloads: 3
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Description
Pen in hand and paper on tableHe writes until he’s no longer able
The palm of his hand swells in red
All his knowledge flows through his head
In the field he stands up tall
Whilst the others droop and fall
Petals fall in the form of words
Written thoughts but never heard
His head aches, his eyes strain
His hand sweats, his arms pain
This elegant flower sags down
Just like all the others around
It nears an end, the doors edge open
He throws his pen in exasperation
“Stop writing” they command to him
Feeling returns to every limb
Like a snail amidst the barren
Eagerly awaits something to happen
So too did he wait for this occasion
His face alive and full of elation
The sun shone down, but now gone
Darkness and gusts, he’s all alone
Illuminated by a building’s light
Instilling within, fear… fright…
For a slip of paper he now waits
A brave new world he’s yet to taste
Afraid and alone, motionless he lies
Safety gone, forced to say “Goodbye”
