Poem Hunter
ST ( / )


Speak to me; he begs
Teach me what you know
If curmudgeon is a word for the old
Why are my bones creaking now?

Bequeath to me; he persists
Your thoughts so unencumbered
I swear demons are bashing my skull
Why is prime driving me crazy?

Explain to me; he whimpers
Inactions are fueling my insanity
My futon follies are the worst kind
Why am I gasping for air?

Define for me; he bellows
But the stillness is deafening
It's a realization of silence
Once again, I am alone

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