If we see the world full of One, then One is born.
I've written this poem hours after the Orlando shooting.
United we stand.
I picked up a pen - not a gun and my finger curled around its ink trigger
Whilst the cricket softly cries life sustains with a flicker
But exists with a flame
The man is tame
Until he comes in the room with his big balloon who self - implodes
He spent the night binge watching the last of the past episodes
Words melting from the heat of his head, dripping from his tongue
Bullets of syllables flying like frogs, turning books into morgues
Gravity pulls sweat onto the floor
A restless look at the door
Locked to earth his blistering eyes, speaking his mind in slur
Dancefloor full of red and the street lights blur
We lost what was born
Image credit: https://www.instagram.com/hellomr/