The clouds in the distance Sit, patient Oblivious to my need For rain They promise the rain
What am I without poetry, Without words, blossoming on the page? I would be but a shell of myself And you would find me
Something is dying, Quivering on the edge Of my soul. It is shaking Swaying in the lightest breeze
Empty eggshells Line the floor And you can’t walk across Or get to the door. You can’t reach your shoes,
It is the emptiness, the nothingness, the in-between. Is it broken? Is it maimed?
As you walk away, Without looking back, I stand here, heart in my hands. I wish you had stayed Or that I’d done something differ…
The wind– A finicky rush That has to be somewhere else All the time. The faint echoes of summer
Knowledge is pain, Knowledge is power. The beauty of knowledge Seems so tangible and so beautiful… That mankind must have it.
We have tendencies to be self destructive and it was only ever our fault, yours and mine and we were never okay.
I fear That now There is no real me. I wear a mask of personality And pretend I’m happy.
Dare you to shatter Dance in the rain while Unbreaking and Made by the darkness. And there are stars,
i am unsure where you are in this night. it is cold it is dark
Words are just words They say But if they’re “just words,” Why do they hurt so much more When they tell the truth?
Whiteboards are erasable. Write down a message Swipe it away with a sleeve Scribble down another message. Swipe it away again.
There are words that I was mistaken to say. There was one time when we were strangers,