This poem is a bad idea

“Unrhymed, like a barren desert.”

This random beauty in the words and the art is something that not every eye can see and feel deep enough.


“In the Present,” Ibrahim Salahi, 1930

This poem is a bad idea –
a reflection of words that stumble
out of my mouth as I talk to you
but nerves outweigh my ability
to speak coherently.

It’s nothing more than an afterthought
coming in to save your day from me.
Am I mumbling inconsistently,
or forcing words into sentences?
Wait, can you hear my truth?

This written mess is my gift to you,
picked up from a pile of jumbled thoughts
and placed together with no effort.
Do you like how I color my words?
Unrhymed, like a barren desert.

Love, Alyazya

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