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.

This poem is about: 


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