Where has my zest for life gone?
Where is my willingness to be wild, to roam, to roar with all the pent up passion of a thousand days of unrelenting, built up pain.
Where have my words escaped to?Why does my mouth feel empty of adjectives and verbs and all those words which I used to cling onto, words which could express the mess of feelings and thoughts rolling around in my head.
Where has my brilliant, raging fire of ambition gone?
Why are my days so empty, my heart so attached to the feelings others can provide. When did I become so needy? So dependant. So insecure.
When did I take the turn down this road and why can't I seem to turn back?
Where is my willingness to explore, my need to pursue, my drive to create, to overcome, to be ...happy?
Where has it all gone, and when...when will it return?
YOU ARE READING
Paper Heart Poetry
PoetryThey don't prepare you for these feelings when you're a kid. ●●● Pain in the shape of words because human emotion is a powerful source of inspiration. Revel in the contradictions. Swim in the salty depths of grief. Climb the mountains of sorrow. Re...
