It's the exasperation I float on
the way I take a deep breath in
through flared nostrils
after a tiresome sigh
as the sour and almost
sweaty air fills my lungs
I am lifted
head above the water
barely staying afloat
day after day
week after week
year after year
maybe it's time I went under
I have penned many emotions that bled endlessly
on the page, but blood only flows for so long before
it congeals and then it evaporates and a stain is left
reminding me of a time I once bled.
It was like water to my mind but water has many
forms and the form that intercepts my mind is one
of solid matter. All are instances now frozen within,
the thought is there static non linear and remote.
My words may die, but my thoughts progress.
I am only human and we bleed less and less.
Fear not for the thaw will come and like a river
my words may not bleed but trickle ever so often.
Fed up at the moment, cant see any reason for writing :(
Whenever the wind
howls, all I can hear
is my own voice
screaming out to
Copyright 3-8-2015 Elizabeth Lawrence ©
Would you shut up for five seconds?
I wish I could say this to your face,
But you'd demolish my feelings.
Lecture me about my age.
I don't have to grow up yet.
Better yet, I refuse to.
Age is just a number to me.
I ignore your opinions, I have my own views.
— The End —