Sunday, December 6, 2015

The weight was in the simplicity

She was a poem,
a very simple one at that,
and for that simplicity
most of us did not understand it

most of us did not see
how the first line was bruised
and how there were
ink drops rolling down the second

and on the third line
there were a million invisible
ghosts and the fourth line, alone,
quietly bore a familiar tragedy
in a stranger’s toilet

there was no fifth line
no sixth nor seventh for that matter
and for most of us who did not
understand that simplicity,
the poem was merely over

but he who read through the lines
very well knew
that the poem had only barely begun

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