What the poet doesn't see | Teen Ink

What the poet doesn't see

March 6, 2015
By Anonymous

Eyes hidden

under curled locks

drink up the night's slumber-

unless

they reach

the island beseeched-

and the body of empty fibres

is carved with echoes of the ocean's waves;

(Sail on, oh pilgrim, may you reach your shores)

but alas the wishes of insomniac eyes

are again but charred in greedy goodbyes

amidst the paper flakes

giving in

to gravity

look! Hidden are

the dreams of the poet.



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