If you could try
withdrawn from all tales of romances,
trapped by the quiet soul beckoning inside,
avoiding promiscuous glances,
wings spread far too close to ever glide.
Whispers and rumors haunt your inner mind,
shadowing the heart inside of your core,
twisting and turning trust of which you find,
this is confusion galore.
Do you know what you're feeling, or can you not identify,
do you spark and wonder, like lightening and thunder,
what will be the other half to meet your alibi,
will you fall under, will you be torn asunder.
This is secondhand irony at worst,
one mind is set and another unaware,
ready to erupt or outburst,
to fight for a feeling which will never lie there.
Inside my head a little voice whimpers 'is it really worth it at all? '
well the doctors have seemed to believe I've become insane,
so on that note I am liable to fall,
and I could blame it all on this very brain.
let the unspoken be heard,
let the unseen be saw,
this starts out fresh and blurred,
its going to become complete from raw.
poem by Simi Ruth
Added by Poetry Lover
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