Thinking Over
Trials and Pain
the ink to my poetry.
All I have are words,
to pretend I have ingenuity.
My eyes have always
but only been able to see your back.
My hand hesitantly would reach out,
only to quickly retract.
Do I want you to notice me?
Should I keep you pretending?
Do we both continue to play dumb?
In all honesty, I find this all so irritating.
I don't want to love,
the pain it brings is unbearable.
Am I weird to not want to give in
to the unexplainable?
The risk is the great.
The failures, too many to count.
So many possible depressive scars
that I could do without.
I'm doubtful, easily discouraged,
but I don't wear it on my sleeves.
Instead, my sunny disposition
makes my poker-face better to believe.
Using dry humor, I laugh
to cover up my hesitancy.
It's the same as a deserter
shouting to no one that he's thirsty.
Thirsty for more
at the same time, thirsty for less.
I want the love,
but I don't want the heart-breaking mess.
One would call that: Selfishness.
I believe my words hold no value.
Therefore, I never speak aloud.
Two observing eyes and
an honest mouth, better without a sound.
Do I continue what I know?
Do I let this build up inside of me?
I'm about as damaged as I can get.
I just can't see any good coming from it,
in all honesty.
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Beautifully Dark Words
Poetry------------------------ Beautifully Dark Words--------------------- This is Collection of Dark and not-so Dark Poetry. They touch each and every category though they might be more a somber look unto life, you'll be able to feel the beauty from such...
