First time in a while
I wanted to hold my
pen and stop the pain.
I realised I had to
write just to be sane.
It's not your fault. It's
mine. Now it may take
an eternity to just be
fine. For my words
will always be the best
companion and sustain
all the tantrums I throw.
Aggression, euphoria,
despondency and what
not. I would be caught
in the life's web
if it weren't for
my words. I cried, I
died, nothing could bring
me back to life. I was so
scared to write my feelings
down. Fearful of the consequences.
Fearful of the noise in my head
and the thoughts that capture
my mind. Afraid of having the
negativity in my head, I gave
up writing. Yet now I speak
in a remorseful tone that it's
never left me. It's been housing
my soul for years and I have been
dwelling on the walls of yesterday.
They say everything is changed,
but certainly I haven't. They say
weak, I say sensitive. They say
unstable I say emotional. I tried
to understand the universe in my
way but there's a whole **** universe
living inside of me. How do I fight that?
I don't see myself fitting with the most
of them. I feel upset. I cry and no
it's not going to stop. I don't
think crying makes you weak
and vulnerable. It's a way of expressing.
Every drop of tear has a story and reason
living in it. It rolls down unburdening
your heart and falls with a splash
on the ground. It's what we hold inside
and let it out. Never be sorry for it.
Since the world doesn't
seem to understand
my sensitive heart I have
always taken to writing because
no one objects a poem but
a crying face always turns into a
debatable topic.