My body is the surface of the lake,
When you scrutinize it, you will see,
The deep green it creates,
The vastness of which you think is free.
My body is the shell of the lake,
When you crack it open and try to swim,
You will regret what you have just made,
And you will always hear the chaotic hymn.
The beauty it gives on the surface,
Is only a deceiver, for deep within,
when you swim,
Are huge roots entangled with purpose,
Roots you need to assess, not just skim.
Yet if others only take a single look,
And never try to dive within,
That's when they know what it speaks,
The fear it causes, even if it's only skin.
YOU ARE READING
From The Pages of My Soul
ŞiirA second book of elevated railway of my emotions. Episodes I never knew I could write. Series I was afraid to dive in with words. This is a collection of poetry and prose originally written by my heart.
