Why do I feel an amateur, a strife,
when this man is part of my surround?
Why do I act as if I am a blubbering fool,
and around him I am much abound?
Because I know I am a free flying bird,
and I do not live to wallow in this sedentary herd.
And I know that I am hauntingly strong,
but against him, I cannot be for long.
And I know that it is bad to be so obsessed,
with someone doomed to be so distressed.
And I know it is bad to want his presence near,
even though he does not have the ability to hear.
And I know it is bad to crave his love,
which he, at a moment's notice, can never give.
And I know it is bad to crave for him,
while he resides in a place that has never lived.
So then, why did I succumb to this temptation?
Tell me, why did I fall in love with a figment of my imagination?
YOU ARE READING
Poesy of Eloquence
Poetry❝ this tragedy is soaked with tears that dry the ink in my hands. ❞ ━ the poesy I've yearned to release ever since I taught myself to pick up the pen and write. ❝ for if the painting of my words be the garden upon the gate of heaven, glimpse them...
