The Poet

he
sees
not seeing
but touched
by vacant stares
dying
and birthing yet another child
begging to write about your pitch
cold days and lit up nights
’tis subtle apathy
that smiles
louder
than the screams
that no one hears except
his pen
which stabs again
and again the spleen
and starts the fight
that no one
feels

in and out
his pen does stab
to stop the bleeding
heart
hold fast
don’t freeze
love needs
you
to need
one who feels
and has felt
deeply
the hell that melts
the molten
stares
still dying
and birthing
yet another
child
.
.
.

Petra O. Hefner

“There is nothing harder than the softness of indifference.” Juan Montalvo

Scripture

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