Poetry

Unwilling to Die

Rust collects within crevices
Of these dried bones
Striped with rotting sinews
That have mostly forgotten
The familiar mechanics
Of wrapping around a pen
Consumed by adrenaline
The rush of creative flow
Peppering through veins
Enlivening still marrow
To the mind’s spontaneous wiles
But now these bones lay
Frozen in a curled pose
Of that practiced ease
Without much hope
For miraculous reanimation
Yet it still twitches
Faintly
Stubbornly
A whispered pulse
Unwilling to die

2 thoughts on “Unwilling to Die”

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