What turns a man into a poet?
Faith, pain and suffering, a nervess tik, or is he just being stoic? At somepoint he developes an ego we call pride and builds himself up to get crushed like a fritto or hit by the incoming tide. He picks himself back up thinking he can fix his mistake looking for guidence but no one can relate. Relising that all his effort was for naught and the cheers were fake. Wondering where time went, how long did it take? My brain hurts and now i have a headache making it hard to contiplate. Where do i stand do i want my toes at the beach in the sand or do i want a beating heart in my hand? What direction is correct? How will i not fret? Lifes a gamble and im throwing in my bet. Trapped in a cage of my own creation forged from the fires of my desperasion. A whirlwind of my design, fractured and yet never runs out of time. Like an alarm you've thrown at the wall im attached by the red string of fate. Im doomed to fall after all. I pick myself back up to try again hoping for the day i see the way. But until then i will see the world as, grey.
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Author:
Andrew5yungk (
Offline) - Published: October 26th, 2021 00:41
- Category: Reflection
- Views: 26
Offline)
Comments2
The courage you exemplify here is palpable, your suffering is heavy and real, and your expression of it is fierce and exhausting and yet beautiful and hopeful. I think we are all potential poets for different reasons, but you are a poet because your spirit cannot stop fighting. Thank you for being so determined to express yourself. It is a bit of an honor to be allowed to get so close to you.
Im glad you found it enjoyable. Im moved by how you view my poem. Its a sad and strong bit of my emotions but i cant help to smile a little. Thanks for reading.
you have a wonderful gift for free flowing rhythm,
thanks for sharing, a great read
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