My poems

by on July 18, 2016 :: 0 comments

They are not mere words
They are the blood that oozes
from a broken heart
The debilitating pain
That pierces deep
And spills on paper.
Blurred words?
Perhaps a teardrop
escaped
Tired of being imprisoned
In sleepless eyes.

editors note: An insomniac's expression to wake us all. (We welcome Shirin to our crazy confab of Contributing Poets with this submission. Read more of his madness on his new page - check it out.) - mh clay

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