How long can one nibble at the hollow words?

Even the insects change their course when the hollow pass leads elsewhere for interesting food

Powdery remains of those words float around on spilt ink

An unwilling pen won’t satiate its thirst with it, for fear of clogging its senses

Last drop of feelings are overused, and the dry patches of pages aren’t impressed

Choosing between the untamed streams and a slow trickle of insipid drops

Imaginations won’t be nourished with hollow promises


One thought on “Hollow

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