Eccentricity

'Tis an eccentricity, you know

When a howling storm brews

Inside your weeping soul

Yet, you fail to find the words.

Your blue, bruised heart bleeds through your eyes

But not a drop of ink on the snow-like leaflets.

"Today...."; an ugly blob of rueful darkness.

Few more sentences. Then a pause.

Words scribbled off from existence.

Your tears may haunt you if you turn them black.

"You have a writing assignment to complete"

Hands race at the speed of the wind,

No page is left unturned.

Chaos reigns in Chez toi, yonder

No word escapes your dying will.

From inside these squalls, you wonder

"Why?"

No word escapes my dying will

It is unusual, I know

The hands which craft mincing daisies

Without a moment's thought

Cannot tell why the tears you shed leave their tracks...

Write for the people,

Write for the people

'Tis an eccentricity, you know..

When words don't tell why you let them go.