Recycled Thoughts
If I had a voice to sing
With every breath my voice would ring
Out into every starry night,
And at the dawn
When my words have gone
I will with them take flight.
It is from their heart
That I'd take part
And build up an emotion.
The soul of emptiness
Which I have always felt
Would finally give way t' melt.
What shall I find there?
What shall they see here?
With what voice do I sing?
I with only borrowed words,
Secondhand obesssions split in thirds,
And small stolen feeling.
Whose voice does the night sing?
Can a shadow's breath ring
Into such a well lit sky?
With what sound speaks my word?
Nothing about me is mine
Not even my rhyme.