Some days I can't think straight,
these words in my mind twist and they turn
until I'm trying to discover the bottom line.
Some days I can't think straight
and some days I think too much-
the words I speak hang on the edge of my tongue
awaiting someone to understand the intensity
of this overwhelming desire to speak my secrets.
Would you listen?
Listen as I sing from the rooftops my tragedy
and mask the brick walls
with the graffiti of my cloak-and-dagger heart.
This isn't closure, it never was for me.
The nights I spent alone and sobbing
have taught me more things
than any amount of advice can.
I have yet to be silenced,
because these words I write
and these poems I seek out
are the undisclosed reason for being.
I may have wanted to die many times
but there's a reason none of my poems rhyme
and it's because there's no rhyme or no reason to them.
They are stream of conscious
they are hanging on every word
until I have no more left in my obsolete mind.
Please don't test me.
I will be fine-
because I always end up that way.
One Poem At A Time.