Weeping Pen

Not to you but You, today my pen weeps
My breaths are chained, I hope you know.
Tied to the strings, I scratch my flesh – walking alone.
There are steps I take, my feet go damps.
I fear the blooms, I live living death.
I talk to You not on a coffee shop or on Rug.
I write to You, though You know.
It gives me peace… You know
With my head kissing the Earth, and my pen whispering verses
I find you in all, I find You among all.

_Sidra

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