Jun 2019
If i write a poem
Every night
Will i feel alright
When each day
Restarts
Each time,
It gets a little easier
To deal with the pain
To smile it away
Buried and buried away
In treasures and chests,
Lays a pool of each and every tear
I’ve shed.
Kept in jars, Each tear
With a story,
A name,
And a face
That I've forced myself to forget.
They are kept away
with a padlock at the door
That says never let anyone in again.
Long walks into the night,
Writing my heart out
And reading for hours on end
I’ve transformed my pain,
Into something good.
In hopes of it going away
Building a new me
With each new step i take.
It hurts too much to remember,
So i choose to forget.
But the old me still resides,
She sleeps in the hole in my chest.
That's been patched up with bandages
Over and over again.
Her pain doesn’t subside,
She's made herself a bed.
I can still feel her cries,
When i lay to rest.
How she yearns to be loved,
And she’s only ten.
I will be her guardian,
Comfort her pain,
Fight her demons away
Finding reason to make her smile,
Day, by day.
Until I am called, at my fate.
The end.
-k.c 4/6/19
Every night
Will i feel alright
When each day
Restarts
Each time,
It gets a little easier
To deal with the pain
To smile it away
Buried and buried away
In treasures and chests,
Lays a pool of each and every tear
I’ve shed.
Kept in jars, Each tear
With a story,
A name,
And a face
That I've forced myself to forget.
They are kept away
with a padlock at the door
That says never let anyone in again.
Long walks into the night,
Writing my heart out
And reading for hours on end
I’ve transformed my pain,
Into something good.
In hopes of it going away
Building a new me
With each new step i take.
It hurts too much to remember,
So i choose to forget.
But the old me still resides,
She sleeps in the hole in my chest.
That's been patched up with bandages
Over and over again.
Her pain doesn’t subside,
She's made herself a bed.
I can still feel her cries,
When i lay to rest.
How she yearns to be loved,
And she’s only ten.
I will be her guardian,
Comfort her pain,
Fight her demons away
Finding reason to make her smile,
Day, by day.
Until I am called, at my fate.
The end.
-k.c 4/6/19
The beautiful thing about poetry is that the reader may hold a different meaning than what the authors purpose was. This is why art is such a great thing. Music and art can be translated in many ways, one sentence can hit one person one way, and other person a different way, almost meaning completely two different things but the same words. Perception..
My poems, when I write them are coming from my experience, my feelings.
I cannot expect everyone to understand what I'm trying to convey, it is up to the reader and how he/she relates the connection to his/her experience.
But, for me.
This poem is about nurturing that inner child, the inner child we don't talk about, cause we have to put on a face and be an adult.. the vulnerability, the desire to be loved and cared for, the simple joy. We all have that inner child within.. this poem is about connecting with it, and protecting her (me) until the end.
My poems, when I write them are coming from my experience, my feelings.
I cannot expect everyone to understand what I'm trying to convey, it is up to the reader and how he/she relates the connection to his/her experience.
But, for me.
This poem is about nurturing that inner child, the inner child we don't talk about, cause we have to put on a face and be an adult.. the vulnerability, the desire to be loved and cared for, the simple joy. We all have that inner child within.. this poem is about connecting with it, and protecting her (me) until the end.
(26/F/Sacramento)
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