Hello Poetry
Submit your work and get some sparkles! Create free account
Tick.. Tick.. Tick, There isn't a single word I can say. I've been trapped in the prison of my mind, With nothing but a chair, desk, a type writer and pieces of aged paper. For months now I've been trapped in that prison, No flow of words or rhymes dancing in my head, that part of me was dead. I couldn't even bare the thought of breaking free, I had the power to, But then again I decided not to. I have caused so much to happen, and so much has happened with me, Looking at myself, the effects.. I begin to see clearly. My hair is tangled and dry like bone, Dark shadowed eyes look like the darkest of stones. I've let my mind go, it being run by a false advisor, Now that I have broken free, I begin to see. That there is a struggle I have, and so do most, What makes me so different? I'm nothing more of them a ghost. One who was trapped and caged, Now coming back to me again.. Is a writer who needs to understand. That life does not stop for anyone, Nor does it go as planned. Im growing up and my heart can't do anything but break, And now I await the final wake.
0
Mar 25, 2015
Mar 25, 2015 at 9:24 PM UTC
Letting The Words Free Into A Whirlwind Catastrophe
Tick.. Tick.. Tick, There isn't a single word I can say. I've been trapped in the prison of my mind, With nothing but a chair, desk, a type writer and pieces of aged paper. For months now I've been trapped in that prison, No flow of words or rhymes dancing in my head, that part of me was dead. I couldn't even bare the thought of breaking free, I had the power to, But then again I decided not to. I have caused so much to happen, and so much has happened with me, Looking at myself, the effects.. I begin to see clearly. My hair is tangled and dry like bone, Dark shadowed eyes look like the darkest of stones. I've let my mind go, it being run by a false advisor, Now that I have broken free, I begin to see. That there is a struggle I have, and so do most, What makes me so different? I'm nothing more of them a ghost. One who was trapped and caged, Now coming back to me again.. Is a writer who needs to understand. That life does not stop for anyone, Nor does it go as planned. Im growing up and my heart can't do anything but break, And now I await the final wake.
Edward-S
Written by
Canadian
Mar 25, 2015
Mar 25, 2015 at 9:24 PM UTC
Request permission to use this poem