A poet was in the closet,
the doors tightly closed.
With the bunch of syllables,
dormant in own world.
Once a fairy gives a knock,
opening the block,
the poet lets her in, and
keeps the syllables in lock.
The fairy sleds
in his heart's depth,
makes the syllables slept,
and the poet swept.
The fairy wants to go high,
takes the wings to fly.
But the poet,
could not rely.
The closet smashed,
she breaks open the door.
The dreams crushed,
the poet lets her go.
The poet, wounded, sad,
leaves the broken closet,
with a bunch of syllables
steps in the poetic world.
The river of emotions flows,
the oars of syllables, he rows.
Frightened by the sharks,
on an island, he embarks.
The land of "Poetry"
with a single giant tree,
Sheltering many castaways,
tired of gloomy days.
Greeting each other
With a warm "Hello!"
Showing each other
a nice way to go!
Many wandering poetic souls,
from sufferings, recovered,
In this way the island
"Hello Poetry" was discovered!!
I'm out here searching for something more
it's something that is in front of me
but it's something that I can't see
I'm trapped behind the chances I had
I'm stuck behind the dirty glass
peering through the broken cracks
because I'm stuck
in the past
thinking of what I could've had.
The three poems I have made private here are all about you.
It seems like everything about my opinion of you is some kind of private matter.
I still care about you.
I think you're amazing.
Maybe I still love you.
But not in the same way I used to.
I'm sorry I'm not worth all that much nowadays.
I just wanted you to know that I'm going into therapy soon.
You said I needed to "sort myself out".
I've been through a lot of things that shouldn't have happened to good people like us.
Or maybe I was never that good person.
Who am I kidding?
You're not reading this.
Last time you did, things went wrong and now all those poems are private.
I can't even muster up any courage to say "hi" in any situation.
So I won't.
Makes things easier.
Sorry I didn't try harder.
Sorry I wasn't there.
Sorry I called you late at night.
Sorry I still remember the circus.
Sorry I still want to send you gifts for your birthday and Christmas.
Sorry I didn't say anything the right way or even at the right time.
Anyways... talk later?
Or never I guess.
You'll be busy.
And I have a therapy session to go to.
The promise has been broken
Now everything looks blurry to us
We try to make a head way but yet
We are still not getting what we want
We feel left out
To us every situation mellows us
Because feel we have no say at all
We tell different stories that are both
true and lies
Decieving the wold with our tales
Making it seem true but they are lies
We go about living a double life
Forgeting our background compromising
our life with lies
Lately, it seems like you're sick of me,
but you said that you'd always stick with me.
And we said we were friends until the end,
but I check my watch and it's right 'round the bend.
I thought I was there for you, but it was one sided,
a bit of your fears in me you confided.
You don't answer me anymore,
you only ignore.
Set to soft piano music
Drift in and out of this existence
As often as the rain
The clarity I seek