Quiet whispers,
And thoughtless imaginations
Fulfill the truth
That lies within the heart.
The heart beats,
And uncontrollable defeats
With anger
And other stuff that contrast
The fears,
From damaging and preparing
It self to one’s peers,
That lies still,
And speak quiet whisper
In one’s ears,
With debatable beliefs
From the hard cold tears
That stays in the corner
Of one’s eye that
Makes it hard to fall,
And even easier to not
Cry.
The dents in the pillow to
Where one head rest and lay,
And the mind, body, and
Soul
Is released to God
To help the gray
That takes over your life,
Vanish and disappear
Which you is uncapable
Of controlling,
With quiet whispers.
And little whimpers,
That no one hears but you.
God take me to the point of
This poems,
Help my reader read,
And understand that my
Words are true.
I am itching to be loved.
I wonder if that itch really had
Grew.
-Marci H.
Oct 12, 2015
Oct 12, 2015 at 8:52 PM UTC
Quiet whispers,
And thoughtless imaginations
Fulfill the truth
That lies within the heart.
The heart beats,
And uncontrollable defeats
With anger
And other stuff that contrast
The fears,
From damaging and preparing
It self to one’s peers,
That lies still,
And speak quiet whisper
In one’s ears,
With debatable beliefs
From the hard cold tears
That stays in the corner
Of one’s eye that
Makes it hard to fall,
And even easier to not
Cry.
The dents in the pillow to
Where one head rest and lay,
And the mind, body, and
Soul
Is released to God
To help the gray
That takes over your life,
Vanish and disappear
Which you is uncapable
Of controlling,
With quiet whispers.
And little whimpers,
That no one hears but you.
God take me to the point of
This poems,
Help my reader read,
And understand that my
Words are true.
I am itching to be loved.
I wonder if that itch really had
Grew.
-Marci H.
