Judge these.
By which, your own faults decide.
And why do all your explanations stay inside your mind?
While mine are put into some sense and rhyme.
As if they cared, to pay me any attention.
I am no great poet.
I will never be another wonder,
But I can still fall.
And I can still hope,
That I don’t fall too far.
Because the pain is never enough,
To measure the emotion that
Just won’t seem to fit into a poem.
This is never enough pain to make up for lost words.
There is never enough blood for balance.
So fall!
And sleep with these dried words,
Dripping rhyme, but emotion-drained,
And let me fall, away, away.