Submit your work, meet writers and drop the ads. Become a member
Jana Pelzom Oct 2020
The music of life it flows,
In every heavy breath,
And every low blow,
It sings in high falsettos
I cry,
I rage,
I hold myself and try to sallow
That I have no control
Over how the concert unfolds;
The screams,
And beats
of feet on the ground,
And everyone marches
Or simply falls down;
Sorrows aren’t arrows,
We’re not bows,
Yet taut we are
And deal out our blows;
If I let go
It hurts another,
But year in and year out
I end up pulling the string,
And then I hear someone sing
“What an up strung girl”
The chorus of the cacophony,
Then the ****** of the dischord,
An arrow singes through the atmosphere.
I do not know what to do with emotions. I end up being quite high strung and do things on impulse but I do not know any other way to deal with them except to feel it as it is but everyone tells me to mellow out. I do not seem to know where to start. And sometimes I feel it is wrong to feel anything at all and other times feeling is all that is fun about this world.
Sharps and Flats ©️ 2020 Jana Pelzom
F l o w e r s   a r e   t h e   m o s t   B e a u t i f u l
I n  f o r m s,  c o l o u r s  and   E s s e n c e s
Galaxies Even rarer
Fleur of cosmic Space
Threads of our  dreamy  dust
    Embraced in  no time  we drift
      E         n           d           l          e           s           s            l                y
                  Intimate       ­     Polarities             Sacred             Pollienation
                                        W o m e n    are   Rare  Flowers
                                  ­                M e n   Create~d:   for *Us
Imagined by
Impeccable Space
Poetic beauty
'      '       '     '

— The End —