Mother woke the first greeting the sun. The children still exploring adventures in their dreams. Father left the earliest to dig deep into the Earth's crust.
It was my first day in big school, meeting all the new face's. Only to rest my eyes on the old souls, that I have connected with. New memories to look back to and the same vibrance to keep.
Winter has come, my gym dress is still long, over my knees. My hair is now shorter than before. The school is getting a bit smaller, maybe I'm getting used to the environment. My class has been going through tension after tension.
Art class was my relieve station. Whereby I'd let the pen and mind take over. Thee only place in the school to mentally relax until the unruly students came to class. Disturbing all the magical work.
One day, in the very same class, the teacher appointed a few of the learner's to reside poetry.
Unfortunately i was among them. The clock's arms where shacking but not intense like I was. My heart was in boiling water, while my feet grew cold. Wrinkles appeared on my hands as they shook, way more than usual.
It was my turn, when the very first words I spoke brought pain to my heart. My mistake brought shame and drained my confidence. It was that very day when I lost my passion for writing or even reading poetry related books. My colourful side shuttered to millions of pieces. As I grew more gray hair trying to forget the colours of the world.
My back was against a the most dangerous fence of all time as many died from the doings of others. Innocent soul's wore tired face's from slavery of the mind. Seeking peace or rather say freedom from being chained to limitations. That fence was no different from what the mind could do when it has been tricked. Only the woke will tell you.
YOU ARE READING
The naked me. (Completed)
PoetryA POETRY BOOK, mainly based on free verse writing. - Sonnet's and elegy's, gives it a sense of emotion. A revelation of my factious side that has never faced the surface of this world.
