Posted in life, philiosophy, Poems, thoughts


I could be forever receding within my own sorrow,

infinite in my grief

for the fralilty of living

has hollowed out my breath.

I inhale 

to exhale



rancid words

apart from action

leave nothing 

but baked bones



-Eva M.M.

Thank you as always for reading and sharing your thoughts with me in the comments. This poem, not only a self critism for what sometimes feel like empty words, but also a critism of our times, and our attitude towards helping one another.



I am the author of and am currently working on a book of poems. To find out more check out my about me page as well as my page about my blog and welcome to the ink angels community.

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