Words || Samir Chahine
As I sit here gently tapping, all my indentations wrapping –
consequently fabricating lines of code forevermore.
All the while intently writing, I compile an uninviting,
misconstrued and rage inciting pest that comforts nevermore.
Though I linger in this broken life where troubles go unspoken,
I lay mourning, still adorning works of wonder worth restoring
while I dread my purpose crawling in my foresight, unsurpassed.
Shall I right these wrongs I’ve uttered? Or indict my mind, uncluttered,
for the misconstructed fable which I praise forevermore.
Though it breathes and bears as stable, like the iridescent maple,
predetermined fate assuring doom will live on nevermore.