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And while tired
I'm writing letters,
A sigh can be heard
in my silence.
I'm crying,
it's that tired
soul...
or hidden pain.
Asking the heart
why is she silent
what is it that does not speak,
if once
it just stops hurting.
And while the rhymes are said
in the old tower
echo the gong,
think,
This heart speaks.
And this is how I write
and I will be speaking
sama sa sobom
Till the sunrise.
When everyone gets up
me drinking coffee
& rubbing my
Tired eyes.
I wonder , ,
they all gave
the poets...
just like me crazy,
sit up all night.
