A different stage, a different story
Yet the same effect that poetry has on me
When the pain gets overwhelming
When I can't tell a soul a single thing
I tell through poetry.

You can't expect everyone to understand
And you can't trust everyone
Because they might judge you,
Leave you,
Or tell you things you don't want to hear
Or what you already know
It's what I fear.

Poetry doesn't judge
It doesn't talk
It only listens.

You don't even have to be afraid
To be your vulnerable self
Poetry is your friend.

Does maturity
dress itself
just to fit in
while your
raw
spirit
undresses it
every
single
time?

An unforeseen situation has finally came to an end,

A flicker of light now guides me again.

The path, once unknown, now stretches ahead,

Leading me forward from where dreams had end.

The future I dreamed is now here in my sight,

A vision fulfilled, a shining new light.

I welcome it gladly, my heart open wide,

For this is the moment I’ve longed from inside

I should settle for less
but nonetheless
i kind of wished
someone would like me
like i liked you

Pessoa sat on a bench
ready for the rain's stench
hands in his pocket
an empty, empty wallet

time is shredding senses
the mysterious coat avenges
last from a group of friends
wounded and the fog doesn't mend

Pessoa sat on a bench
taking the rain's stench
his jaw to the clench
busy streets cobble French

black hat with a tight ridge
where all curious minds hid
door slams, droplets dance
it's a trance

Pessoa sat on a bench
defend yourself, defend
passersby still know, no tend
a pity look, a petty spell
want to buy?
would he sell?

smiles wasted wry
tickled waists to the clutched hand-holding lie
not to him, he's to die
shadow pointless, out of time

Pessoa sits, demeanor stands
umbrella steady by left hand
a soaked problem with no name
down the cliff behind him, letters rain

                                                           ­                                ------ravenfeels