For some reason
Some god awful reason
I am called a poet
Because apparently
If you can rhyme
Shortly pause
-then connect the lines back to a profound meaning
You are
A poet
Everything that leeches out of this mouth is meant to be beautiful
But it's not
I meam
Why is it that
When I talk
The audience expects this twisted breath
Carefully formulated into words
To be-
Beautiful?
Oh, maybe that's why
Maybe it's because I tend to form complex sentences
Built to the rhythm of my own heartbeat
That never truly make any sense
And then I hurl it onto a page of my journal
Then shove it into the face of the world
And say "Look, It's ABSTRACT"
You see,
Our minds are so easily manipulated
That I just primed your own mind
Without you even knowing
To think that this piece was abstract
To interpret my pain in a million different ways
Even though I wrote it as straight forward as I possibly could
Because I wanted people to finally understand me
YOU ARE READING
Infatuated Bliss
Poetry"This is the mindscape carved by a blade, engraved into my mind. The same blade I used to carve the word Happy into my skin" ~ Assassain_Music #18 in MentallyUnstable #967 in Anxiety..that's impressive-right??
