My first "sappy" poem
You ask me, why do I trust so much things that I can never love?
Why do I stare so much at the clear, blue sky above?
Why do I prefer the touch of biting ray-skin in my hand than your soft palm?
Why do I spend my hours using anger to bring myself a moment of calm?
I trust them because they are real
They don't break me down, bring my brittle pride to heel
There, they don't strike, and I don't have to strike back
And a ruined day isn't left looking hopelessly black.
My throat is sore, and my eyes singed with salt tears
Yet the rays-skin hurls back all my fears
The sky shows me that there will be a better end
My anger shows that my heart is not yours to break or bend.
The love you give is not real, only make believe,
And you hope your disappointment will leave me to grieve.
So yes, I trust these things, though dead they may be,
because they will not cause half the pain trusting you will bring me.
I can not lie, I made that up on the go, and it shows. Its trash, and hard to even figure out, but hey, maybe i'll get better? Also, please note, my claymore was handled with ray skin, so that's what i'm referencing.
YOU ARE READING
A Rough Handed Attempt At Putting Emotions To A Page
RandomThis is my first try at expressionist writing, so expect rather trash, emotional pieces. Some pieces may be in Gaelic, as when writing, or even speaking, the language feels so much more emotional and easy to express with. So hey, on the rare occasi...
