I HAVE A POET CAGED INSIDE MY MOUTH DESPERATELY CRYING TO BE LET OUT. I HAVE MIDNIGHT SONNETS IN MY MIND THAT DEPICT THE GREATEST OF ALL THE CONSTELLATIONS. I HAVE THE BLOOD OF A THOUSAND FALLEN PUMPING THROUGH MY VEINS RIGHT NOW, AND I'VE SEARCHED MY HEART AT MIDNIGHT, LOOKED FOR TRACES OF BONES AND ASHES; INSTEAD, I FOUND DIAMONDS. I HAVE RELEASED LIONESSES FROM BENEATH MY SKIN, AND THEY TELL ME THAT THEY WILL NOT SETTLE FOR MEDIOCRE THINGS. THAT I CAN FIND BETTER IN THE WAY THE TREES SWAY IN THE SUMMER BREEZE OR IN THE SUN KISSING THE HORIZON THAN IN A MEANINGLESS 'I LOVE YOU'
YOU ARE READING
The Scrambled Philosophies That I Call Thoughts
PoetryThe scattered musings about love and life by a(n) (a)musing girl who knows little of either.
