POETRY FROM A BEGINNING MIND
THE INABILITY TO ASK
Has become
The monster
In my closet
Gazing at the wall
Hoping and dreaming
That she will read my thoughts
That they will hear my cries
And interrupt with me with a dollar
Or a kiss
This poverty engulfs my soul
And it’s worse then yours
Or so it feels
Worse then anyones
The starving
Infidels
Bandits
At least have a weapon
They shall not hesitate to use
My weapon is belief
That is all but dried up
Like clothes hanging naked
In the overwhelming sun
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