𝑌𝑜𝑢 𝑎𝑟𝑒 𝑑𝑟𝑒𝑎𝑚𝑖𝑛𝑔
it would be a false alarm to see
your reflection that
contributed something to the
flames that are turning blue
through these museums of poems and arts you have created
that started a wildfire
along those before you,
a path for the younger you's
that are yet to begin their journey.
𝑌𝑜𝑢 𝑎𝑟𝑒 𝑑𝑟𝑒𝑎𝑚𝑖𝑛𝑔
of the darkest nightmares,
the self-doubts that seem
to break the armor into a million pieces,
taking you along with it.
My child,
let me remind you that
when your body, a product reaches its expiry date,
the only thing that
you can transmute into immortals
are these arts, these words that ignite the passion inside you,
an antidote to the feelings that you are feeling, which you and I shouldn't give up on it.
Finally,
𝑌𝑜𝑢 𝑎𝑟𝑒 𝑖𝑛 𝑟𝑒𝑎𝑙𝑖𝑡𝑦,
created a passage
for your thoughts that once reverberated through the depths of your flesh
and now,
you are out of it,
out from the mess you own
and
out from the labyrinth.
-𝑌𝑜𝑢 𝑎𝑟𝑒 𝑓𝑟𝑒𝑒.
YOU ARE READING
This is me trying
PoetryA collection of poems and proses churned out from the blueness
