Faded

 The ink’s faded and letters blurred,

the mind is weary, the speech slurred.

 

I don’t remember my old poems-

why I wrote them,

who they were for.

 

They don’t sound like me anymore.

Reviews

[emmajoy]

And the moral is?

There's a touch of warped fascination for the reader here Want to read more but.. it doesn't exist.

[Hell in a Hip Flask]

It doesn't have a moral at least not a planned one, it was just a thought I had but I may expand on it later.

[emmajoy]

I'm apt to make fatuous comments late at night. Don't expand it overmuch, it's clever.

[Hell in a Hip Flask]

Cool no worries