The two extremes always seem to go together.
Footprints of fingertips bring back memories.
A flower used to only be a flower,
And a cloud, a cloud.
Nothing exists now,
Not even "Nothing" can exist.
Black Isn't there,
Neither is blank.
Faces have vanished into whitewashed fences.
Trees blend in with the Sky,
The non-existent, not blue or any color Sky.
The lies don't even matter now,
Nothing does,
But then again, there is no "Nothing".
My world is a book without pages or a cover,
Lines of nonsense written with an invisable pen.
My poems are only bitter cries for attention that I don't deserve.
Spend your pity else where.
Maggie
