Lost in translation
Words, words, words.
I want to be a poet so bad. But the leters can't make the right chords. To make the melody evenly sad. To flurish it with a spark, big words, ornaments, or some genius. Competing with myself, perfection itself, I am left speechless.
Stroke feathers of a lamb lit fire in a lamp. Nothing is impossible. The possibilities are endless. Endlesness is endless.
I want to touch souls like mine. The universal language of love. Spread understanding. Or find it. When touching it, light it on fire and watch the flames bloom. Methaphors, conections, puns, and games. In a sharp mind, all may be relevant. Thus am I so frustrated. Pride and prejustice, teach me your ways. Foxes, teach me your ways. Shamans, teach me your ways. Please, please, let me be the soul I want to look at. Sharpen me like a knife. Knife that can carve a Venus and David. Auguste Rodim, make me your thinker. Catch me before I fall. Please. Until it's not too late.
Copyright © Manon Blackbeak | Year Posted 2024
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