Peculiar Times

When I've got a whirlpool in my mind

And it's spilling out of my eyes

On to creamy paper that tries

To soften the splatters of a

Melancholy mind


When the Sky, 

Weeps its own tears

The worn out journal makes its way under my trembling hand

And eases the thundering sounds of a ponderous heart


When the World is quiet 

And Darkness sets

And nothing is left

To save me from drowning 

But the black ink and blue lines 


When there's nothing left that 

Inspires me to carry on

But words like "For the caged bird sings of freedom" and "Happiness. It comes on,



Peculiar times

Provoke the best lines



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