The piece is lost
from the vision of history;
it speaks no comments
inside my home.
Words are cold,
a silent coward of time;
the book tells us
and nothing more.

Whisper to me
the power of your contempt
from the lips of the righteous
to tell the right talks;
throw away the quill
that hold your feet forever:
poverty of thoughts
and the silence of the heart.

Tell me about the assonance
and the terms with the same paths;
break down the corrections into words
and the weeks into days;
and blot your ink
on the top of the title,
write all the ideas
and the sentiments inside.

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Key Words : poem, write

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This Poems Story

Writing poems sometimes motivates; but also discourages us. There are many subjects on the land. However, there are times when your mind is empty and the poet cannot say a word.