Human beings need help.
They can’t do it completely on their own.
That’s why we spend some time calling out to people.
But it just ***** when you keep calling out to those,
Who have already hung up the phone.
the mind possess the tempo
of each poem that will grow
the poet hums silently as
the inks of harmony flow
silence within its aging pages
in an attic of hurt and true pain
it sits all alone just an old notebook
silent for too long
trying to make sense of things
hoping to unleash the
pouring words onto paper
Shhhhh !! ....I need silence....
I'm asking the lines
please allow ink
from my pen to purge
my emotions into its spaces
Don't fall in love with an artist.
You'll come to love the way
the beauty of the world
reflects through their eyes
in an awestruck childish glimmer
and you won't remember how to see
when they're gone.
No one will love you like an artist can.
They'll memorise all the tones
of your skin
and perfect the shades
in every mound and valley
and they'll only paint
with black and white
when you're gone.
You are all so fragile
In more ways than one
Made of glass and glued pieces.
I'm unable speak certain words or
in certain tones...
And I am a stone
Watching my every move
Careful not to break you guys
I am a stone in a glass world
So heavy the burden
of staying strong
"you guys" does not refer to any of you :) just saying.
Your word that speaks the language of your soul.
Your soul that hears the voice of your heart.
Your heart that scream the name of your mind.
Your mind that whispers the emotion of the lines.
Your lines with notes and tones. And
your tones that tune the feeling you have.
The music you have.
Through your soul into your heart and to your mind.
To all the music lover
— The End —