Long, sorrow filled strokes marked the page I longed to keep blank. A sad tale that I wished to be fiction took form. The stark contrast between black and white sharpened the page and the words cut me deeply. I had hoped to keep this darkness to myself but I can feel the eyes that peek from beyond the padded walls. The curiosity they hold hammers the nails deeper into my velvet lined box. Now I watch my pen dance across the page in a ritual that only conveys the melancholy seeping from its feet. I watch my hand swirling around tastefully in tandem with the dancing black swan. The grace and the beauty in what the ink takes form serves its purpose. The time and effort put into the slow dance instills the importance of the truth in the words. An explanation must be given to the watchful eyes always seeking to know too much. My black heart cannot stand the misconceptions that form in ignorance. Now I am forced to straighten the line of time. I feel the room tighten as my dark thoughts turn darker. The black swan stalls for a moment but continues on leaving a trail of tears. She weeps across the page afraid of the intrusive eyes. Beyond the eyes lay rusty gears clonking hard against each other working obdurately to fabricate logical fallacies. The power of those mechanics have deteriorated my once impenetrable solitude and I watch impassively as a bit more of my ceiling crumbles to the floor. I since long ago gave up repairing my fortress but now I can only hope a clean soul finds my truthful words and purifies my legacy once more. My mind cold and numb while my body stiff from the straight jacket that once kept my body warm. I fear nothing in this world but the approaching eyes and rusty gears and the power of what I have already lost in this world. Now my black swan sweeps its last bow and comes to a rest beyond its stage. The last of my strength and resistance disintegrates into bitter ash. I watch over no one as I depart from my crumbling fortress but the stark white paper folded neatly on my desk awaiting the clean soul to claim the contrasting black words it wears.
YOU ARE READING
All My Thoughts I Never Shared
PoetryA compilation of all the things I've ever thought or felt, written out. Hopefully, someone reads something they can relate to. And hopefully, it'll brighten their day, or at least make them feel less alone. All the poems you read here were written b...
