It sat in the room...dark and grim
I know what's inside of it
But I'm still scared of it
Horrified of it
Embarrassed of it.
I call this box fear
I don't like it.
It does not like me..
Filled with sadness and thoughts and memories I don't want to remember.
I about things beyond others understanding....
It is filled with the filth I think too... among other ideas too scary to explore
"Will anything be normal again.....will I ever see them again..... what happens when you reach for the......"
It can't be held any tighter than I hold it .......can it?
I've held on to it...till my fingers started bleeding...drip...drip..drip.. the blood falls
I no longer able to hold the box.....
Drop it on the ground....
I am scared it will reveal itself
And others will laugh. Laugh at me....
I am capable of a lot...but it holds me back....
I keep it close to me afraid others will peak inside
They mustn't see the mess I am.
I can't hold on to it.
It demand to be free.
I look at everyone else they are so happy.
I wish to be happy too.
I soon realize I need to let it go.
With a deep breathe I open it.
And let it all out.
It is free,therefore I am free.
Now I can keep better things it it.
This time I call it love.
You can tell I tried something new this time..... I don't know how it turned out... do tell me if you liked it.. comment and vote... P.S- the underlined words make a difference in the story.
YOU ARE READING
Poems Of The Broken
PoetryIt's a book I wanted to make since ever......I would like every one to read how I view the world I feel like it's my contribution to humanity. Yes I wrote each and every poem some are good some are very bad. But it's still me and my story. I hope an...
