Breaking things,
Forsaking things.
I’m taking time to find my
rhymes.
Lost forever in a pile
of shredded paper.
The silence I once savored
isn’t doing me a favor
reminding me of the blankness
there on my mind.
I was one of a kind
Now I’m a fly on the wall
instead of collapsing alone in
a bathroom stall
writing haikus on the wall.
Three lines were all I needed.
To tell them I was there.
Now I write pages
that say nothing.
I try to rhyme
but the rhythm falls at my feet
Tapping to keep the beat.
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