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 Apr 2014 The Haywire
Kait Zinke
Maybe someone
dropped my soul
before it was sewn
into this body

Maybe that's why
I ache in every breath.
Maybe that's the reason
I break so easily

People don't need an excuse
for their sorrow,
but I search for one
anyways.

Maybe someone
dropped my soul
before it was sewn
into the seams
of my existence

and maybe they just
forgot to brush it off
 Apr 2014 The Haywire
J
Overwhelm.
 Apr 2014 The Haywire
J
Ran outside, no shoes
Hot tears, cold wind, breathe it in
Realizations
 Apr 2014 The Haywire
J
Why is hellopoetry.com black and white? I've always wondered about this... why my colorful photographs are required to travel back in time. How does this effect the poetry in any way, shape, or form? But I understand the wisdom of this design now. And it sets a great metaphor for all of the people of the pen involved in this truly noble motion, this secret society for people with passion, talent, and troubled minds and souls. Hello Poetry is black and white not because it has to be monochromatic and modern, but because us poets fill these pages with enough inovativeness and color already with our words, ideas, thoughts, songs, senryus, ballads, heartbreaks, insecurities, that adding literal color to this website would be overwhelming. These soft undertones of gray, black, and white may be considered drab and depressing to some, but to us poets it represents timelessness. And this is probably why we are all here. Hourly, daily, weekly, monthly, or even yearly publishing poems. Because we all know we are not going to live forever, and we are so entirely insignificant in the broad scheme of things and of the universe itself, that it is a bit comforting and helpful to have this coping mechanism or soft blankie to calm our fears, that this literature we write, however insignificant it may be, is absolutley permanent. And that maybe someday it will be remembered so a small bit of us may live on. Tom Riddle knew the needs and wants of man kind before anybody else realized it. Maybe he was just trying to cope with the fact that he is insignificant. These poems are all our Horcruxes so *viveamus per camenam nostram.
^^^let us live through our poetry
One flash, frozen in light,
The burning of her eyes
Fell my sprocketed night,
Deep in flames shudder,
All language, new, cipher,
Filmy frame, truest colours.
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