This is the time to write.
Nobody
listening
Nobody
in my mind
Nobody
to remember.
It's time to write,
because I clawed,
at my vanity,
I beat against such a big wall,
maybe getting at the tower of...
Blank Cd's
and
a bed that swallowed me up,
a gushing river and I...
Used my hands to tear...
Right into an echoing smile
that sits on my lips,
like the idiot
who talks in another's voice.
It was only my closet whispering
and my clothes that said
What would I have left?
From the woman I can't change
to the girls who'd change me,
what would I have left?
A marble of honesty,
to shoot across silent universe?
Shedding coats, with symbolism
my ancestors
painstakingly took
millenniums to create
and the clever little poet's
cliches and emotions.
So this is the time to write,
when nobody is reading
and nobody will hate reading
what I hate writing.
Delilah Miller
http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/nobody-will-hate-reading/
