Words
I may not say
every thought that ran
in the complexity of my head
And the pressure,
The guilt that kept
my words hanging
Each time I tried to open
My heart to hear
What my mouth is not saying
I will stay
At my very best
I may be exhausted
But my heart
will always beat
for every word I convey
with every letter
I gave life
with every chapter
that consumed my grieving soul
I am not alone
I will forever be
on the world
that I created.
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The Passionate Corpse
PoetryCorpses are gross, dirty and foul-smelling. At times, they're scary to look at. But curiousity enthralls upon something unpleasant. Amidst the ugliness, it satisfies the dark part of our soul-not meant to be human. Something about it is unnatural...
