now what, reader?
it is dead, I think
what now, reader?
it is dead, indeed
knack to wake it up
but inertia whacks
no life or technique or
it is definitely dead
like a blind sheep
lost in a shooting
shouting for help
shuffling the shelves
of my mind
of my shallow mind
of my shallow and shrinked mind
i have nothing to declare
but spare
spare you, reader
from reading a dead poem
from a dead mind