I feel the thorns,
the blooms bursting -no
pulsating with color
brightly giving me memories
Memories that go
round and round and round
on the carousel,
the ones with the pretty horses
their beauty-
I could not touch.
The movement going slow
as time itself.
Because this way,
I see them in full effect,
the memories,
the movie of my life
i see them in full affect,
playing over and over and over
the theater, with its crimson seats, was dark when I watched it,
the story of my life.
Because I learned,
I could not touch them,
the memories.
I was not the director-
I was merely an actor.
And I was blind, everyone was blind
until it was over,
and the light
hurt my eyes.
YOU ARE READING
Naive
PoetryWORDS WERE THE LIFEBLOOD OF POETRY, AND I REMAINED SILENT. A collection of poetry. For the people who don't feel at home in their own skin, for the poets, for the people who are depressed, for the people who aren't depressed, for the people with wo...
