A poem by Jon W.
Gasping for forgotten air
Shedding any residual light.
Transfixed in one position
Screaming with muted breaths
Crying frozen tears.
Transparent to those around him
Dry hands smother the lightbulb
Raw flesh burns at the touch
Of dying luminescence
Few are left behind
To cheer as they weep
Crying frozen tears
Words on a page can’t speak, just as
Lines on paper can’t bleed
But don’t they still feel pain?
They hurt from the pressure of the
Smudged ink spilling on the whites