I couldn't talk about it so, I wrote a poem
When metaphors play 'hide and seek,'
my shield is a veil nurturing premature petals.
Yet there are some words that become poems,
to help those who care to read
to interpret the alchemist mystery,
personifying personal alliterative angst.
The heart ponders...
What will abandon me first,
my trusted muse? Who reveals my truth
or my wallflower soul, which prevents
butterfly breaths - breathing their last sigh?
What am I,
but a pomegranate pebble,
oppressed by stones -
in a man's world, feeling like a boy.
Once, I planted two seeds with ultimate care,
but they no longer bloom for my atonement.
Yet, I still care for them from a distance,
soaking their roots with drops of blood.
Once, I found love,
so I formed into a bridge,
protecting her from raging torrents,
but I could not live up to expectations,
as turbulent waves crashed against my chest.
Now I'm crumbling.
Sometimes, I'm left alone upon an unknown path,
with only cloudy horizons above - but I keep wandering.
Hoping to be found.
Slowly, I lose a part of me,
but I'm inexperienced in
trying to be who you want me to be.
I'm tired from being devalued.
Maybe, I'm worthless,
simply useless, some what careless,
so throw your spears -
I no longer feel.
I won't tell.
I'll remain silent,
but my poetry will forever echo.
Simple Musing
An example for my current contest.
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