There is no
Creative way
To express
What grief
I’m feeling

Since words
Are the most
Incapable
Means of conveying
Their loss

With breath
Like expended wind
In a futile
Gust
Called pretense

Pushing through lips
Uncertain
My stutter
Has meaning
At all

For I hesitate
Now
When believing
This spoken faith
Has purpose

Beyond what lies
Lay dormant
Beneath
That tongue
Unchecked

As an ignorant
Turn of speech
Where life
Itself
Finds silence

At the end
Of sentences
Willing
To determine fate
By verse

Writing dreams
Off need
From a passing
Urge
Left wasted

Dangerous
As it is
Excellent
For inspiring
Useless rage

If days
Are a debt
Repaid
But only served
While waiting

These hours
Becoming torture
Without
My pen
Which hurts.

– J. Pigno