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Enter Poem or Quote (Required)Required It is common of me to burn my loved ones, with the flames of my own emotional resistance, For to succumb, would eradicate the persona of my creation, Thus, eliminating the very core of my introverted individualism, As each is devoted to guiding me toward a greater destiny, Opening the doors of their essence, asking "Where to little boy?" My answer is " To the beloved serenity that lies only between a writer and the words that become powerful statements he cannot say" As old wounds become reopened by the painful blade of silence, I commend them on comprehending the truth of the delicate situation, For not one unreturned embrace is meant to be a personal insult, Instead, each is a self-sheltered boy whose compassion hides within ink, Therefore, I plead for the strength to love them, by learning to love me, For my affection of self, is stalled, by a lack of knowledge of who I am, Causing confusion in every thought which weighs on my being, Imprisoned in the bitter sweetness of being loved, and being lost, With convoluted thoughts within me, I shall write tonight in a place of tranquility, In hopes of clearing a mind broken asunder, by the paralyzing silence of an arduous lifestyle Which I will equate with the last walk home after the harrowing survival of an odyssey, And slowly stumble my way back to humanity With the intent on finding, the boy they knew, the man I once longed to become, and the lost person, slowly slipping away, into the strange depths, of complete isolation
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