dead poets

With the lips all dry 

and my hands all dry

i write and write and write whole day

i dont know why

sometimes it is hard to leave

the house

sometimes it is hard to get dressed

sometimes it is hard not to bleed and rest

the time passes me by

hugs to all loved ones

thoughts set aside

dreams are yet to be realised

a proud mom you are

how fun it is to read poetry

if you had all day you would get bored though

then discover new poets who

had also kids and they

they died too in the end