My tears fill my eyes,
Potentially to fall to the book below.
The branch from the tree I've come to despise,
The new root to my fear and frustration.
I'm very close, oh so close, to being free.
I'm cutting the branch off as time wanes past.
Nonetheless, though, does it cause me strife.
It causes me fear, and it causes me anger.
This is not something I need,
Much less want, this pain.
But I have to do it, anyway,
For it is standard, though stupid.
My tears threaten to fall,
Just as my voice rises in pitch to ask,
"What on earth does it mean?!"
One of the sentences I've heard from me most often.
And you know what?
I'm strung as taut as the heaviest bowstring.
I'm benching my max.
I'm confused and lost.
Yet, as I get through destroying what I can,
From the strong and fast-growing branch,
My friend cheers me up with her art,
And my cat cheers me up with her purr.
Just a little longer. Just a small amount of time.
That is when I will free myself,
Only to weigh which was the lesser poison,
Though at this point I no longer care of my fear of presenting.
YOU ARE READING
The Rhythmic, Blue Cat
ŞiirThis is my poem book. Enjoy, since many people have enjoyed my poems! These are my feelings, so please do keep that in mind. Yes, the cover is Bluestar. I couldn't find a blue cat other than her, who is arguably the most famous blue cat.
