Forgotten poetry
poetry from my drafts. i still feel this way
When I pick up my pen it stutters, when i open a blank page it mutters "louder" i shout and it freezes and closes "louder" and my brain mutes "what more do you want from me" less, we want less,
I guess I'm succumbing to this poison again. I guess my blood is meant to be built from iron and wilting petals. so strong and so fragile, i guess i am supposed to bathe in duality. why is there no middle ground? no putty with red ink? no audience to give an apology?
My mind is in a strange place, all needles with no thread, i feel directionless. there is pure intention, angelic light as we speak, but somewhere along the way the darkness bends the needles into themselves
About the Creator
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Comments (3)
Nice work ❤️ I’m new here hope my stories are good 😊 just like the ways you guys get to top stories
Great poetry! Fantastic work! 🤍♥️❤️💚
so many times, I sit and think, "what now? what words will fall from my brain onto the paper?" My brain's response is ... "Nothing ... just make some up. The rest will flow."