“ Blank pages are cruelPure torture in white or beigeBut how else to start ”
To read a poemIs to see light where there is darknessIs to hear silence where there is noiseIs to dance where there is no musicIs to sing where the only instrument is wordsAnd the stirring, impassioned pauses
~ A.a. Patawaran
I can't remember the poemThat pierced through my heartIt was the saddest I heardOf all truths ever spokenIt left a scar in meA wound that doesn't healBut the words are forgottenSo is a big part of me
I read for pleasureIn search of fictional worldsTo enrich my truths
Words are music to the ears, alone or together, with or without melody.
