I was inspired by this poem by Opinionated Man and created this poem in response.
(For Opinionated Man)
Typewriter keys clicked through
The silence of the night hammering
Alphabetical symbols on the worn tape
Leaving fading ghosts.
Reams of paper tabbed their way through the bail
Leaving consonants and vowels that bleed
But make no words.
My yesterday sounds like a keyboard in the night.
A dying action creating failing words.
A bleeding of consonants and vowels in the hope of finding a voice.
A voice found and then buried alive.
His fingers move effortlessly, a memory in the night. My yesterday.
Common and lesser known foes. They come and they go and they go.
A burden borrowed is a burden owned. My burden. My life of strife.
They will holler at the moon and gloat upon deeds done.
They praise driving a man from his passion. And there his passion did lie for all to see.
A corpse of the past and ultimately what it really was. Letters… pure letters of opinion.
I bleed out as I wish for a nonexistent pen. An outlet to be remembered by.
Do I live for the moment or does the moment rule me.
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