Submit your work, meet writers and drop the ads. Become a member
 
I may look happy,
But I'm not.
I may seem strong,
But I am truly weak.
I can say I have friends,
Truth is I am lonely.
I might seem open,
But I'm a closed book.
My facade acts as a light
To hideaway from
The truth in the **dark
Poetry is like gusts of fresh air
Harbinger of the soul’s catharsis
Flowing emotions through the pen
Concealed pain written across the pages
Healing the pain which was long buried
This old soul brought back to learn,
to live with joy,
to live with pain.
This old soul's alone again.

Seeking out the light in shadows,
cast over from the old divide.
Swallowed in waves of emotion,
castaway among'st the tide.
Ego bashed, within an inch,
within a moment of each life.
This old soul and new beginnings,
reaching for the other side.
Passion untamed
Thoughts are unleashed
Too much was said
Can't take it back
We both were wrong
And now you're gone
Yes it is true
I really miss you
Please come back home
I hate being alone
Tell me is it true,
That when I look at you

Tears fall down my face;
Scars are what they replace.

The last time I really smiled?
I'm unsure, it's been a while.

For comfort, I use a facade
Just to hear them applaud.

To hideaway the true inspection,
I sit and stare at my reflection.
  Jul 2014 Christopher A Patrick
Helen
The whys or where's
nor the for art thous
or the perhaps now
I know not
the love me nows
nor loved me then
or even the when
I know not
the cerulean sky
nor the indigo goodbye
or the softest sigh...
I know not
when words tried
nor when the rhythm died
or Poetry became a lie
I know not
the how's or wherefores
or keeping score
but
I know when
love of something
begins to end
bleeding from lacerations
bashed against rocks...
*I know then...
Thousands of questions in my head
Searching for answers with no end.
Regretting words that I never said;
Looking at letters I didn't send.

Thinking of a possible new life;
As the rain drops onto the ground.
No more heart-brake that cuts like a knife
And have hope for real love being found.

So many thoughts within my mind
Unsure of which is best for me.
Unafraid to leave the past behind:
As I begin to set myself free.

As I stare through the looking glass..
It's been a while since I actually wrote a poem. This shows that I am pretty rusty. I hope you enjoy it.
Next page