Hello Poetry
Submit your work and get some sparkles! Create free account
What am I to do when the words are screaming within my head, when the arms of the letters are engaged in a wrestling match and they're ignoring the referees constant pleas to stop; what is the referee to do when they're driving him mad? What is he to do when they're driving him crazy? The fights only exist in the ring, in the head, for they don't even exist in the outside world. Spoken word is nothing but dressed up thoughts; nothing but children in costumes on Halloween night. The referee can not exist outside, neither can the battling words; so how is he to get any peace of mind? What is one to do when the things he's meant for drive him crazy, what does one do when the only thing fueling him holds him back? How does one free themselves from themselves? (NJ2014) All Rights Reserved.
0
Sep 28, 2014
Sep 28, 2014 at 6:12 PM UTC
The Whistle Has Blown.
What am I to do when the words are screaming within my head, when the arms of the letters are engaged in a wrestling match and they're ignoring the referees constant pleas to stop; what is the referee to do when they're driving him mad? What is he to do when they're driving him crazy? The fights only exist in the ring, in the head, for they don't even exist in the outside world. Spoken word is nothing but dressed up thoughts; nothing but children in costumes on Halloween night. The referee can not exist outside, neither can the battling words; so how is he to get any peace of mind? What is one to do when the things he's meant for drive him crazy, what does one do when the only thing fueling him holds him back? How does one free themselves from themselves? (NJ2014) All Rights Reserved.
nicolejoanne
Written by
Sep 28, 2014
Sep 28, 2014 at 6:12 PM UTC
Request permission to use this poem