Violet bluebell( used to be yellow rose)

Wanting to stand up and speak your truth


I am a bluebell standing on the grass
I want to speak my truth but my petals are sighing
I want to sing like a bird
put pen to paper
speak so much truth into the breeze
from my voice within
but all people can see are colours
I cannot speak up
tell the world of my feelings falling within me
I cannot speak up from my worthy vibrant petals and that causes a sigh to stir within me


Truth is a word like a bottle
Full or empty
People still drink of it
The taste is whatever
They want it to be


Truth the words I wish to expel from the bottle my emotions have learned to embody.
Souls have projected the acid words they carry into the emotional bottle my heart embodies.
When it becomes to heavy for me to carry, these words erupt from a foreign rhythm inside of me.


An ink,
Spreading on blotting on sheets
Blue, black and red
Spilling the truth
As nib draws streaks ray of light
Like a feather dwindling in situations
Nothing but truth, that stays within me
Wishing to fly high
Displaying its streaks



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