I claw at the door before me and struggle to get out. Not wanting to see the things that will remind me of who was once here. I swallow, I'm worried now for my nails are raw but my eyes are dry and I ask my self why my pain has become my most popular Attraction.
It's funny, how something so simple and so raw can have you thinking as deep as This. For I wish that my pain was as dry as dirt maybe then these old wounds wouldn't hurt and would finally dry up but like paint that was laid on just a little to thick it remains
And day after day I dare enter these internal walls and proceed to mark the entrance with
"Beware artifacts from a wounded soul, who has seen, felt and heard to much resides here so enter at your own price"
Enter at your own price...how funny did I mean risk, I meant risk or did I mean price, I say risk because that's how I feel....like a risk ...like that lump in your throat when your about to have your first kiss or when your about to show of that latest trick that no one knew you were practicing.
It's ok if you want to enter I won't even charge you a dime because we'll honestly people usually spend about two to five months wandering around and flipping through pages and touching the cracked glass that protects my oh so precious artifacts and then before I know it ...there gone.
They must not have believed me when they read the warning tape, you know the tape I plastered at the front entrance...and so as usual I'll turn out the lights, unplug the lamps and hang up the red ropes but don't worry this museum is 24 hours it just depends on if your willing to buy a ticket
To my heart or as I like to call it my newest museum.
YOU ARE READING
Writings from the soul
Poetryhello my name is Xander and these are my original poems/ short writings. I write what's real to me, what's my reality and what is raw but also some are just burst of inspiration and I write as they come to me and will keep them organized. feel fre...
