A Poem
How does one consolidate such great feeling,
Such knowledge, such powerful, almost frightful thought?
Those passionate notions
That I am sudden to see
Unconscious revelations
Making themselves known
How has it then made itself known to me, to you, and all others
And yet, has failed to be seen to the one that truly matters
The one that will make it all better
Does he see it and scoff?
Does she close her ears to the compositions of your life?
I’ve known many deaf to such arts
I will know many more in the years to come
And of course, I am left to see your deep lakes of pains
I get it—I want to be known and plunged into
To be discovered beneath the wailing surface
Into the depths of deeper comprehension
And I want every single drop to matter
To the one that will make it all better
To the one who believes in the purpose of words
I have tried to muster such a brilliance for years,
And more so to recapture your curiosity for my existence
While the natural, bloodless pains seep into every wrong region
Eyes closing with disgust and misinterpretation
Shaming the one and only confidence “a poem” has earned
Could you not even acknowledge at least, my struggle?
Could you not admire the work, the effort, the sweat of futile determination?
Would you dare even drink from it,
From the poison of bitterest truth?
6/25/18
4:00AM
Copyright © Laura Breidenthal | Year Posted 2018
Post Comments
Poetrysoup is an environment of encouragement and growth so only provide specific positive comments that indicate what you appreciate about the poem. Negative comments will result your account being banned.
Please
Login
to post a comment