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Ravyn Lamae Poem
Legos;
So simple,
No one to judge them...
Not on their size, shape or what color they are.
All people care about is the general creation the legos make....together
So why aren't we like legos?
Why?
But what if some are like legos
To easily knocked down if not hanging on to someone else for dear life
That don't quite fit in the contraption we want to make
But what about the ones that do fit and don't get knocked down where a they?
Is it you?
Is it me?
Do I get knocked down after being built up?
I constantly need to hanging on to someone else....
Another Lego?
I personally think that we are more like crayons.
Only worried what people think
If we're broken, if our paper is gone, if we're not sharp enough
And if we are crayons what color are we?
Are we just a blue
A green? That pink that looks like a red?
The black that we desperately look the very few times we actually need it?
Or the yellow that smears when comes in contact with other colors?
Or are we the white.....that no one ever seems to need?
No one wants to be the white ...but some get stuck like that
On bright paper the white seems helpless
Screaming to be heard but as if no one can't hear them
But in the right situations...... on the few black pieces of paper life gives to us
It's the most colorful crayon we have
So weather you're a Lego or a crayon
We all have a place we just need to find it
Copyright © Ravyn Lamae | Year Posted 2015
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Details |
Ravyn Lamae Poem
Urban dictionary says "narwhal; an amazing, magical combination of a unicorn and whale"- oh ok,
I'm sure one can find beautiful things about a narwhal. The same way we find beautiful things in raindrops and matching sock. And like all beautiful things we write about there are always things that threaten the inhabitants of those thoughts implanted in our subconscious. There is something so personal about comparing ourselves to beautiful things and then pinning terrible things to the people that make us unbeautiful.
Like... I am a narwhal. And how I swim through my sea of thoughts, filled with colorful imagination. And how the only thing that makes me thankful for the Horn on my existence is you. Sleeping soundly in the oil spills that linger in my blowhole- despite the fact that the word "blowhole" is super unpoetic! Even more than the word super.
But that's how you make my little metaphorical narwhal heart feel! You're the one with the harpoon words and gallons upon gallons of wasteful, wishful thinking that you're better than me. GOD DIDNT GIVE A UNICORN HORN! HUH?! No that was ME!
Copyright © Ravyn Lamae | Year Posted 2015
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