Pain used to inspire me to write;
words would flow easily substituting
my tears.Sometimes I feel like Orpheus;
music as a glorious rescuer,
subsequently ejecting
paint on lifeless blank pale skin
with feelings and emotions
words could not possibly express.Will I make it past eighteen?
Close yet unsure...
hop!
what if I ran off the ledge?But now, the pain seems likes nothing;
nothing matters!
All I can think of is the dark red ink
bleeding on paper, pushing morosity aside;
leaving a vivid sense of relief in its wake.Omnipresence wrapped in bandages warms me, yet
nothing matters;
disappearance of primitive tears,
nothing's left
to
spill.__________________ ׂׂૢ་༘࿐
┊ ┊ ┊ ┊ ┊ ┊
┊ ┊ ┊ ┊ ˚❀ ⋆。˚❃
┊ ┊ ┊ ✿
┊ ┊ ❁⋆
┊ ๑ ┊
✾ ⋆ ┊. ˚.
˚✽ add this book to your library if you enjoyed this poem ;)
YOU ARE READING
Raindrops of Reality - [poetry]
PoetryI'm fine. But what does it mean? A phrase said for years but usually meaning a lie. A settlement for how something could be? Or a false testimony for the way that I'm feeling? Raindrops of Reality is a personal collection of poems, with the will to...