There’s no energy remains,

Just a drop of blood that taste like coffee,

I’m in the hour of silence, madness.

Or maybe silence sounds like weakness,

A few breads to eat,

My rice cooker not yet meeting its red mark.

I’m yet in the dark.

A little spark still clamoring,

Behind my desk, behind my words,

Silence, silence as the music speaks.

The only words that I hear on this hour.

Its not sadness,

Just in pure possession with the words.

 

#POETRYMARATHON2023 #HOUR22 #24HRSCATEGORY