I am often asked, why I write.
I repeatedly pour my heart and mind
onto paper-flowers
for no one to read.
Make sticky, saturated imagery
about a sweet summer song.
And wish
that the words
will make the flora and fauna
of the concrete wall
that is life,
grow.
Or to bask in them
as glorious sunlight,
and lap them up
like sweet nectar
for the soul.
The Artist
hangs his work proudly,
on the wall.
The musician plays for the world.
Me? I hide my work
in the top draw of my desk.
Underneath old essays
and postcards for places
Might never visit.
Does this make them any less,
beautiful?
To take words,
and arrange them pleasingly,
on the page.
After all,
they are for no one,
just me.
#poetry #poetrycommunity #poems #depression #anxiety #feelings #emotions #sadness #emptiness #quietkidloudmind
#poetry #poetrycommunity #poems #depression #anxiety #feelings #emotions #sadness #emptiness #quietkidloudmind
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