A collection of original poems and photos. I believe that art comes out of humility. Herein lies my crash course of the said matter.

Thursday, October 18, 2007

Hollow Clicks

The muted voices above my head, upstairs,
and their hurried footsteps tell me what the time is,
far from normal pacing that tricked you into thinking they were approaching,
but I know now that they always recede from recognition.

I am an empty staircase, blind to where I am,
stretched between my fear and expectations,
wondering why no one steps towards me.

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