Less is More

by Han

colour of seeming purity
shade of assumed chastity
fragments of pathetic fallacy

bemusing books
complicated contents

concrete spine
not designed
for feeble minds

caressed by spindly fingers
seeming prelude to comprehension
thrown like doll into
dancing flames

“What does this mean!”
they candidly ask

  yearn to drench woe
into pages
  let ink, in the form of blood,
seep through the papers;
  serrate the throats of
  puff ’em up with vile words

vanish the vulnerability
bleed the bother

wheels within wheels
you fear the unknown and
  so do I