wala-zaidan - Hello Poetry

I was away for a while. and I would be a fool if I tried to apologize for taking the pen away when you needed to breath but you've survived, I've drowned you in my insane mind and you repeatedly baptized. And it seems like the only language you spoke was silence yet the regret of agony is piercing in my ears they say the hardest part of life is to heal so I sat there impatient carrying a mind of a widowed man and a heart weak as an infant - inhaling my empathy until traumatic memories exhale my lungs. playing the blues on a phonograph and danced the grief away its the melancholy that's banging on my chest; convincing me that I'm okay It's the nights that hit rock bottom and built me by day it's the thought of "I could do this all on my own" and yet wandered vulnerable in the streets in misery because I couldn't bear the horror on my backbone it's the emotions we kept in hostage and doubted every good intention it's the laughs in a full social room and the mourning of emptiness inside that sings funeral songs and we sing along. it's the celebration of madness; a suffering a way to exist it's the pens not to be reached; chains on my wrists it's the night that felt like thousand nights yet poetry spoke in lights it's the fire we set just to warm others, and watched ourselves burn peacefully it's the tests from God...God's mercy. it's the sadness we thought it was, but it was all happy. it's this life, the world of discovery it's the love, the smiles of heavenly it's the innocence, only the hearts can see it's the struggles that we've adored peacefully it's the unrecognizable mirror that built you through tragedies it's you - the suffering you've romanticized in the name of illusion it's you- that held the torch in the darkness and dreamt of paradise you're the poetry I have never wrote you're the words that are crawling out of a poet's throat Oh, Passion? where do you think you're going? chasing you is like chasing the unpromised dreams You've left a trail of forgotten memories, I followed... only to find you and me.

0

May 5, 2018

May 5, 2018 at 5:13 AM UTC

Oh, Passion.

I was away for a while. and I would be a fool if I tried to apologize for taking the pen away when you needed to breath but you've survived, I've drowned you in my insane mind and you repeatedly baptized. And it seems like the only language you spoke was silence yet the regret of agony is piercing in my ears they say the hardest part of life is to heal so I sat there impatient carrying a mind of a widowed man and a heart weak as an infant - inhaling my empathy until traumatic memories exhale my lungs. playing the blues on a phonograph and danced the grief away its the melancholy that's banging on my chest; convincing me that I'm okay It's the nights that hit rock bottom and built me by day it's the thought of "I could do this all on my own" and yet wandered vulnerable in the streets in misery because I couldn't bear the horror on my backbone it's the emotions we kept in hostage and doubted every good intention it's the laughs in a full social room and the mourning of emptiness inside that sings funeral songs and we sing along. it's the celebration of madness; a suffering a way to exist it's the pens not to be reached; chains on my wrists it's the night that felt like thousand nights yet poetry spoke in lights it's the fire we set just to warm others, and watched ourselves burn peacefully it's the tests from God...God's mercy. it's the sadness we thought it was, but it was all happy. it's this life, the world of discovery it's the love, the smiles of heavenly it's the innocence, only the hearts can see it's the struggles that we've adored peacefully it's the unrecognizable mirror that built you through tragedies it's you - the suffering you've romanticized in the name of illusion it's you- that held the torch in the darkness and dreamt of paradise you're the poetry I have never wrote you're the words that are crawling out of a poet's throat Oh, Passion? where do you think you're going? chasing you is like chasing the unpromised dreams You've left a trail of forgotten memories, I followed... only to find you and me.

42

To protect my innocence I left you in your own hell, never has an angel survived in a devil’s hand.

0

Dec 2, 2017

Dec 2, 2017 at 12:22 AM UTC

Devil’s hand