I hate when nothing can pour from me.
I hate when I just stare-
At a blank screen or paper
Or the world,
It's all the same.
Nothing would come to my mind
When everything is jammed
to one line
That grows every single time.
The wounds are growing
Inside out
And no one is here to put a band aid
Because,
It's simple and life's first lesson,
No one cares.
The wind pushes us
We are just the frail leaves in its path.
Such anger,
Such sadness,
Such fear,
Such emotions
Botteled into a shell.
The cracks.
Oh,
The cracks.
They just grow and grow
Through length and width.
They are screaming
To get fixed?
To get control?
So many questions
But
None are given the key to
The gate
Which doesn't have control
But
It's always shut
Because
No one wants to hear from it.
No one dares understand it.
Then there is the wait.
The promising prosperity of proper purity.
Who can be innocent when they've grasped the truth?
Who can then be /happy/ when the bombs have muted the colors?
Supposedly, if we wait,
The time will come
When all this
Is gone.
Albeit, so many doubt it cause
This endless,
Lonely,
Broken road
Has been dominated by all types of calamities.
Come to me again.
Saying, "it's okay".
These words are nulled
By reality and one's mind.
If only it were as simplistic as those words.
I bet we'd all be living in such oppulance
Of mind, spirit, and body.
For now,
The mind is the hurricane five that we face
And someone bring the tranquilzers
Because this tiger will
never be safe.
YOU ARE READING
Telling's from the heart
PoetrySo here are a collection of poems inspired by stories whispered or stories told. Here are to those going through tough times and to get better. Here are to those that are at their peak and to keep up their good work. ***PLEASE IGNORE THE LETTERS THA...
