Of all the poets in the world,
I may not be the best.
Of all the voices in the world,
Mine may be the smallest
And if I believe, I will touch the stars.
So,
You’d better listen well
Because my words will change the world.
I may not be perfect,
But to you is where I always go
Digging a home
In a place I don’t belong.
Pleasant smog ,
Blemished fare,
Unchaperoned thoughts,
Oh the solitude.
This place has dragged me down to my knees,
Digging a home
In a place I don’t belong.
I remember
I remember how it took a misstep to fall into a whole that was never there
Sand covered face
Mumbled screams
Darkness
Tears being swallowed up by my deceitful mind,
I remember
Putting my head down
And accepting defeat
For reasons still unknown to me,
I remember
How I had to bargain my freedom by folding my stories in a box and throwing it into the river
Just so I don’t end up there again
I remember
My tired eyes about to close on their own
And that was when I knew I had to fight
Fight for the body that didn’t want to be recognized
Fight for the sore mouth
Fight for the aching heart
And a better life,
I remember.
We’re silently communicating
In a room filled with friends
Fear of living
Fear of loving
To the world, I’m resilient
But I’m losing myself .
How can I heal,
When I’m running from it?
How can I be free,
When it has me in chains?
How can I embrace it?
Vulnerability.
To feel without feelings
To lock up before hearing the word broken
To move effortlessly without hearing whispers of insecurity
Is a world I could only dream of.
If a glimpse of this dream is the closest to reality,
Then I’ll take it.
Not in full, but like shards of a broken glass,
I’ll take the pieces slowly.
Besides
I don’t need a full cup of wine,
Just a sip will suffice
To let me know if this dream
Will make me feel whole again.
Surrounded by loved ones
Yet it doesn’t stop me from feeling alone
So
I’m walking around in a guileful suit
Hoping to find peace in all the wrong places
Because the right ones just don’t exist
I don’t feel it,
The pain from the cuts on my body
I don’t feel it,
The hurt from the curses being thrown at me
No tears
No joy
Just numbness
If this is a healing process,
I don’t want to heal
I want to feel something,
Even if it’ll hurt me
I’ll take it.
I just want to feel
Hurt has become my favorite food,
The taste of happiness is foreign to my tongue.
I use words
To paint pictures
So,
When I’m writing
I write with rage,
With passion
And that’s beautiful
TooSweet blogs 