Untitled (May 22, 213)

Product of the dark hours of the coming morn.

What does it mean

To have a poet's soul

Never mind

Being called

An old soul.

Is it

A pale echo

Of a long forgotten past

As seen through

Different eyes.

Tainted by

Half-healed wounds

Of the mortal kind

To the soul.

Where gender

And words flow

With the ease of water

Through our ink-strained

Hands.

Exposing to all

Our inner frustrations

And fantasies

As seen through

A different len.

Or

Just a figment

Of an overactive imagination

Left on

Too long.