There are times, when we learnt to use our heart less. When we endure hardships and try to move on, pretend that they didn't exist while ignoring the storms inside our mind. There are times when we all have bottled up. If so, then you will understand this poem. Because one day? The bottle shall shatter, the storms shall escape. We feel nothing.
But we're crying. Not us, but our old self that bottled up those emotions, our old self that endured the pain. Those are words spoken by them while we stand still not understanding. The only thing that makes sense would be
The fact that our eyes are leaking
They're not tears you see
They are voices that the heart speak
The voices forgotten by the brain
But felt by the soul
They're not tears you're seeing
But the dry soul's sweats in
"I'm used to it"
Monotonous routine
These are not tears
But pearls overflowing
From the gigantic locked chest of treasures
Hidden deep inside the body of ocean
Meant to be forgotten
These are not tears
But silent wishes and screams
Persistent waves and tsunamis
They're just mere raindrops
Accidentally leaking from the hidden system
Where a lifetime of storms, whirlpool resides
They're not tears, you see.
YOU ARE READING
Candid Heartstrings
PoetryThe candid beats of a heart The unfiltered voice inside That finally sets it's free Let me present a mere display of words Behind which, hides memories, anguish, fears, dreams and tears Let's have a view of The poetries I wrote for myself The quot...
