I try so hard
To be stone.
To be a volcano.
To give the illusion
Of an ocean.
But I know
Every stone must crack,
Every volcano erupt,
That every ocean
Is not vast.
I try
To be a bottle,
Never
Let my feelings show
And yet I know
Every bottle
Loses its lid.
And yet
I hold it in,
Controlling the burst.
Ask me to speak
To tell you it all,
But my heart
Was ripped to pieces,
Torn and abused,
And all that is left
Is a black hole,
Dark and vast
And deep.
My soul was long ago
Carried away
Swiftly and sure
On a devil's wind,
Cold and unfeeling.
I am here
Yet I am not
Living.
I am cold, hard
Marble,
Blank and smooth,
Steadfast and strong,
To be shaped
As you would perceive me
Never giving up
The inside.
I
Am stone.
About the Creator
Rachel Prett
I'm a poet and a fiction writer. I can write quite decent essays, but I'd rather tell stories of the heart and speak with my whole soul.
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