Writing to the Empty Chair

Notebook in hand,

this is all there is.

The words surging forth

cannot care that they are naked

because though they wear no armor,

no chain mail over their fleshy conceptions,

they go untouched by swords

and your dagger tongue.

My pen is a weapon of

mass creation,

and with it

I write to music,

and to death,

and to the empty

chair.

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6 thoughts on “Writing to the Empty Chair

Thoughts? I love those.

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