InkblotA Poem by MorsiFighting, fighting and more fighting. Why do we keep fighting with the ones we love?
The pen is tired of fighting
back the words it could not resist to write- just as it could not hold its tears, black and mad, from tainting the paper, now wet and filthy as mud. The pen shall taint the paper on and on to forever till angst and tears run dry By then, I’ll stop to rest and bid us good-by. March 2008 © 2013 Morsi |
StatsAuthorMorsiPhilippinesAboutAn expatriate basking in the sand dunes of life. A corporate slave trying to earn and save for now and the future. A husband. A father. An occasional writer suffering from writer's block almost all th.. more..Writing
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