She hid her pen, afraid to write about the sweet things that brought her joy.
Always believing that once she wrote about it, it would somehow disappear.
She kept it all to herself, to safe keep and remember in secret.
A guardian to her thoughts, to the things that made her smile, to the dreams she had.
She refused to let it go, thinking that writing it down on paper would mean it would be stuck within the pages.
Gone, inaccessible, lost to the fears she held.
She had experienced celebrating things openly, allowing herself to believe it was real, only for it to be taken from her.
She hid her pen, afraid of the pain that would come from opening herself.
Little did she know, it would never matter how tightly she held on, the reality of life would crush her either way.
YOU ARE READING
Chaotically Organized
PoetryWelcome to my chaotic mind, expressed in free verse poetry that just down right sucks, however it is the process of expression and finding myself. From healing, to pain, to falling down again, to hoping to find myself. Chaotically organized and sh...
