paper crown

Pain has had its fill

of charcoal

and graphite,

Tear-brimmed parchments

have run out of miles.

my splintered bamboo reed

has spilled all its ink.

My weathered feather pen

won't hold back the wind.

I knew this day would come;

My buckling knuckles would tumble down.

I felt it in my arteries,

A screeching tear in my paper crown.