A friend asked me to describe what writing poetry was like, so I wrote this for him. |
I've had a feeling Somewhere deep inside For quite some time A feeling I can't describe I want to let it go I want to let it flow I want to watch the magic happen I want to watch the beauty bloom There's something inside of me That won't be set free That can't get the picture in clear It's a painful attribute The words are so close The rhythm is just out of reach Why can't I touch it Why can't I breathe it The desire is so strong But it stays harbored Within the heart there is safety There is a lock to be picked Had I not swallowed the key in selfishness The words would be music of my soul Rather then the painful cry to replace the tears My wings are broken and unable to take flight I close my eyes and search Calling that perfect phrase Those subtle images The purest emotions They come to me by night Carried by the gentle breezes Dancing in the moonlight And onto paper A silent whisper A tearful cry The sound of a heart breaking Written in ink Engraved by pain Filled with revenge Recalled in doubt Spoken with hope So many things to feel Overwhelming emotions Being pushed away Pulling others towards the light We're back to the beginning Back to the paper and ink Back to the simplest thought Back to the sleepless nights It must be released It can't stay there any longer Trying to sleep isn't working It won't be ignored any further They are secret confessions Prayers that needed to be prayed Wishes finally being murmured Infernos erupting at being suppressed for far too long Thus is the life of a poet Poetry is the music of our hearts The blood running through our veins It's our way of life Let the rhythm engulf you Release your desires and thoughts No one can condemn you now Set your heart and soul free at last |