I am the Paper
By Nick.A
Thu, 05 Nov 2009
- 881 reads
3 comments
I have a pen but no paper,
So I write on my skin,
The private whisper urging me,
“Get it down now, this time this place”.
In this single room, this bed,
So careless to have no paper,
No one to share these thoughts,
That echo along my arm,
That tingle into my flesh,
And scrape up next to my wrist.
Here now, this time, this place.
This quiet solitary limb must suffice.
There will be other times,
But not this time.
It has made its mark on me.
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Comments
I really like this. It
Permalink Submitted by sarah wilson on
I really like this. It suggest to me a kind of self harm, having to get the words out. Great!!
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I missed this one
Permalink Submitted by Silver Spun Sand on
I missed this one previously. Great poem.
tina
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