Plick,
Pluck,
the tiny little strings in my mind.
dancing to a different tune each and every day,
the world plays my songs.
eyes wandering around the room while I play with my thoughts,
like the child I never won't be.
cross-legged and slumped over as the heated droplets dribble down my spine,
and fall from my weary lips,
that which are worn from the words I never got used to saying,
singing the songs of my each and every day,
coalesce the thinkings that have somehow let me dance to where I sit today,
forlorn petals fall from my branches in beautiful pastels, cursed to live in the winding winds.
Aday to each and every day that I sing and prance within my tiny little heart,
washing my pains away.
ill-weighed upon my shoulders,
as yet i dance some more,
beneath the turbid downpours engulfed in shades of red.
i wish't to see the blue,
the green,
the steam, arising from my skin.
narrowly weeping within my little box of horrors i keep by my side,
in remembrance of each and every day i have and will yet shed a tear.
haunted lullabies revel on and on,
each and every day,
i crave the pieces of the peaces i'd once known.
to here,
today,
i shut my eyes,
and into the blackness bursts forth colors i've never seen,
and will never see again.
to see that which i've never seen.
silent shapes shaping away falling through my fields of vision,
and inform themselves to the visions I write today,
so here,
i simply continue,
to plick,
and pluck,
the tiny strings inside my mind,
each,
and every day.
~Robert van Lingen
Jan 28, 2019
Jan 28, 2019 at 8:34 PM UTC
Plick,
Pluck,
the tiny little strings in my mind.
dancing to a different tune each and every day,
the world plays my songs.
eyes wandering around the room while I play with my thoughts,
like the child I never won't be.
cross-legged and slumped over as the heated droplets dribble down my spine,
and fall from my weary lips,
that which are worn from the words I never got used to saying,
singing the songs of my each and every day,
coalesce the thinkings that have somehow let me dance to where I sit today,
forlorn petals fall from my branches in beautiful pastels, cursed to live in the winding winds.
Aday to each and every day that I sing and prance within my tiny little heart,
washing my pains away.
ill-weighed upon my shoulders,
as yet i dance some more,
beneath the turbid downpours engulfed in shades of red.
i wish't to see the blue,
the green,
the steam, arising from my skin.
narrowly weeping within my little box of horrors i keep by my side,
in remembrance of each and every day i have and will yet shed a tear.
haunted lullabies revel on and on,
each and every day,
i crave the pieces of the peaces i'd once known.
to here,
today,
i shut my eyes,
and into the blackness bursts forth colors i've never seen,
and will never see again.
to see that which i've never seen.
silent shapes shaping away falling through my fields of vision,
and inform themselves to the visions I write today,
so here,
i simply continue,
to plick,
and pluck,
the tiny strings inside my mind,
each,
and every day.
~Robert van Lingen