Jerome by Anastasia Forfotă - HTML preview

No Mind, No Fear, No Care

Look at my face: it's a blank page.

I have written on it once,

but the ink has smudged

since then.

Rip the paper, you might find

the soul.

But no, another sheet of white

stands there, alone,

another

martyr of a known

tyrant-

the sentiment, the dire

resentment

washed away by lack of thought,

mad, I'm mad! I'm free at last,

I can no longer smile

or fast,

I can no longer whiff the dust,

I can rest, yes, dull rest

in peace long after my own death.

To fear death is a choice.

I fear nothing.

Not even life.