My physical,
My mental.
My emotional,
Its all coincidental.
I have real tears.
Eyes blink.
My hand hurts from writing,
So fast my mind is racing.
Is that physical?
I lose my thought.
That was me that hurts,
Something bad is out there.
My pay for my talent and genius,
It makes me.
I am real, very realistic.
All this around me I feel.
It hurts like no other pain,
I wish it would.
I wish I could make it go away.
I wish I could.
I am hurt and hungry,
I'm always losing.
Losing is a waste of time,
Our time is money.
Winning the war is everything.
I will not lose,
You hear me?
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The poetry here is free to view and share. The author believes art should be available to all, even if not able to afford a purchased copy.
You are authorized to view and share poems, as long as due credit is given. All poetry, words or phrases given are written by DENA DERAKHSHAN.
