Empty pages


Empty-pages splashed on the street,
Empty-fountains that writes nor sleep,
I, the writer with blank sheets,
A story that started ,yet, incomplete.

Vessels of thoughts drop down,
Filled with the nectar of life.
Yet, the mind is blank like the blank sheet,
A mind that seems to deplete.

Still gathering those pages from the street,
Empty-pages that I cannot read;
Empty-fountains that has no ink.
My mind is filled with words of a geek.
Yet, broken vessels are empty,
And it can't breathe.

I, the writer with an empty pen and a sheet, sit,
To pen the empty-pages of the yellow street.

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