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The Pen is Mightier than the Sword
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andrea hawk

abstract thoughts

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i’m searching for something,

though lost and confused

i’m not quite sure of exactly what i am always to do

there’s two different plains on which i sometimes subsist

there’s never one without the other

though one might be shrouded in the mist

like a surgery while you’re still awake,

the pains get worse, make no mistake.

what can i possibly do to rectify this?

the glaring answer is apparently nonentity

… as nothing really exists.

it seems i’m stuck in a purgatory

that’s neither here nor there but

somewhere between awake and dreaming,

when your brainwaves start their screaming

distracted bits of information from the chaos fly

thoughts on the significance of life reflected with

nothing but sheer ignorance and strife…

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