The Poems I Never Wrote

There were times when words lived in my mind, 
for fear refrained me from sharing.
Something felt off with letting the world know of my inner thoughts, 
unaware that similar minds would resonate with my own. 
I would diarize, never cease to announce, 
choosing to cry internally than to externally, express.
A lot seemed to plague me, pain me, purposely, 
where realization to capitalize took longer to pin on such a prize.
Oftentimes, around these times, the nights would accompany me, compel me, to incomplete battles; 
scenarios I could hardly bring to life, yet I'd wake to more heartache from heartbreak or plain ache.
A choice - to shut eye in damp pillows than to awake to possible comments of same sentiments. 

Gone are the days... 


the beauty of art comes from pain - realise who you are
05 October 2022 17 lines, verified by PS Grammar Checker
Copyright © | Year Posted 2022

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Kyser Avatar
October 6, 2022 at 9:47 AM
I wholeheartedly concur, writing is catharsis, but putting it out there actualizes it, and, in some cases, becomes a help to another. Good stuff
Zamambo Avatar
October 6, 2022 at 10:05 AM
Yes! Most definitely! I was very much hesitant when I was younger to share but now I figure it couldn't hurt to express and connect with others who feel the same. I've never turned back, since. Thank you so much, xx
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