I think I know why we grew so quiet. They cut half-way through our sentences Only to incorrectly complete it.
How do you claim to know us? When we don’t understand Our emotions, directions, and All these sensations Running through our bodies.
We are standing here Trying to confront you, But you simply, incorrectly complete our sentence.
I think I know why we grew quiet as a mouse. A mouse in a neatly cut hole in the wall. Because they didn’t respond when We gathered up our heart strings, Held it up as a mic. Only to resounded the crickets And the static in the hollow of our hearts.
I think I know why we grew so quiet. Because part of what we speak is wrong. Our thoughts are the same sides of two magnets, Repelling. As giant five-year-olds we were fascinated, Forcing the two to stay. The defiant, rebellious force No longer fascinating, We grew quiet.
Because we are wrong and you are right. I ask, What is right and what is left In the circle of life?
I think I know why we grew so quiet. Because all we needed was a pair of eyes To look into our souls. A pair of ears. All filters removed. A heart so big, it could shelter us both. And our mouths, to never plead, ‘Listen’.
A happy accident called, catharsis introduced me to the many branches of writing but mainly to poetry. The more I wrote, the lighter I felt. I shook all the weight off my shoulders until I felt the clouds under my feet.
I believe we must write for ourselves whether you earn from it or not, it can save your soul as art truly does.
Nowadays, I preferably write to learn new things through blogging, to relive experiences, to understand human emotions, and at times write cathartically through poetry. I’m curious to know where this adventure would take me next.
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Too good 👍
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