by Anne Hambuda & Christopher Charamba
The page is blank.
Words I cannot find.
A pen in hand.
I must clear my mind.
So full of thought,
yet words won’t form.
Noise and chaos, reside within.
Yet nothing on this page is born.
My lips stay still,
as my soul shouts out.
I am broken into silence
And filled with doubt.
No whisper, no words,
No story to tell.
My soul’s greatest tales,
are burning in hell.
I feel this need,
my words must feed.
But still this pen’s
ink won’t bleed.
I write to free
my mind’s torment.
These wandering thoughts
with no place to rent.
My soul is spent
My spirit weak
The story dies
I cannot speak
The torment is
My soul’s best friend
The poet’s pain
Knows no end
