If I write, then I write <br />And the words <br />Small letters, alone meaningless <br /> <br />Construct the stream <br />Of thought, silently <br />A sign reflects the mind, <br /> <br />And again, it withers <br />In front of my eyes <br />Drops dead <br /> <br />Such as autumn leaves <br />Those, fall onto me <br />And like them, I die. <br /> <br />Ah! If they did not <br />Loved me this much, <br />Then I wouldn’t. <br /> <br />Pick them up, <br />Take them in my heart <br />Forever, <br /> <br />Such as words, <br />I bear, I kill, <br />I change and change. <br /> <br />For that is what we do, <br />Pathetically, <br />Day after day.<br /><br />A.R. Brixton<br /><br />http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/if-they-did-not-loved-me-this-much/
