These things we think
and then write
are how we get it out
..so continue......
"get it out...let it out"
we hear you.
I want to be heard.
I was born onto this sphere
alive and lonely,
embraced by the sun
and sheltered by the moon.
Burned by the sun,
abandoned by the moon.
One of many lights
Sometimes I don't know
where I am going
but I know where I have been.
How I cried or laughed or swore.
And if I don't let it out
Words will appear on me
like a tattoo.
Covering every inch
the more I have to say
the words will grow smaller
and smaller
to make room for more.
Until I am all black
Drowned in ink.
I won't hide my light
Slashing at the page
Pounding the keys
This all makes sense,
it has to make sense
Someone will hear.
I'm listening.
Jun 14, 2016
Jun 14, 2016 at 3:19 AM UTC
These things we think
and then write
are how we get it out
..so continue......
"get it out...let it out"
we hear you.
I want to be heard.
I was born onto this sphere
alive and lonely,
embraced by the sun
and sheltered by the moon.
Burned by the sun,
abandoned by the moon.
One of many lights
Sometimes I don't know
where I am going
but I know where I have been.
How I cried or laughed or swore.
And if I don't let it out
Words will appear on me
like a tattoo.
Covering every inch
the more I have to say
the words will grow smaller
and smaller
to make room for more.
Until I am all black
Drowned in ink.
I won't hide my light
Slashing at the page
Pounding the keys
This all makes sense,
it has to make sense
Someone will hear.
I'm listening.
It may not be a poem but it keeps the pump primed.
