Is safe an option,
If you can't find it
In your own head?
Too many thoughts
Too many words.
It shouldn't take
This much effort-
It shouldn't be this hard-
To control yourself.
To remember that you're loved.
To not hurt other people.
To not
Hurt.
Yourself.
Even now,
It's oh so hard..
The strings are tight,
The thoughts wild,
So hard to resist.
The smallest pluck,
Creates a sound of pizzicato.
Thoughts,
Too many thoughts..
There's no rest in tremolo.
A fermata it has as you play.
No lift of quick intake of breath,
You're drowning all the way.
When we were little,
We liked the water,
Until we realized,
It got you wet.
The stars were pretty
Until they
Were drowned out
By the lights.
Pull the bow back
Against the string
And you shall hear me
A vibrant note rings out
In plain sight
But does anyone see
The vibrato
With the note?
Sleep doesn't come very easily,
Even with my best friend.
Nightmares still come,
Though not at bad,
But the thoughts
Just won't move on.
I didn't wake up screaming,
And in front of you,
I wasn't that scared..
But in the arms of my sister,
And even when you hugged me goodbye,
The fear inside
From a simple dream,
I found it hard not to be
Consumed.
It wasn't bad as they usually are,
In fact,
Not even close.
But a nightmare
Is still a nightmare,
Despite how much I let it show.
And now these thoughts are back
A nightmare
Of our very own.
Pull the bow back
As it rests on the string,
As a vibrant note
Screams and rings.
YOU ARE READING
From The Pen To The Soul
PoetrySometimes, writing isn't an option; it's a necessity. This is my story. Everything I write, is a part of me. But it's up to you, to find your story; connect to yourself through my writing. (Most of these are sent to my big sister)
