Flatline

May 12, 2011
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What happens when all inspiration is gone?
Drained of blood from an open vein,
pronounced dead with the drop of the pen.
A sigh of the lungs,
a white flag waving goodbye in front of your eyes.
It's the final surrender, for your brain is but
neurons and thoughts that no longer mate
to produce what lingers in the dark corners of your mind.
Toss in the cards, face up with no gain.
The pen is completely lifeless, never to breathe your thoughts again,
for there is no breath left to take.





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