Posted in about me, my poetry, this is life, this is my family

Old But Not Quite

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Old but not quite
A song plays and it paints a familiar air of ominous tunes in the still air.
Old but not quite.
Surely does not feel likew thirty-six…
Maybe sixteen
Especially with the shackles tight around my hands and feet. I am a prisoner and I drag painstakingly along, creating screeching sounds that deafen in the silence of the night.

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Posted in about me, daily prompt, i am a writer, my poetry, this is life

The Words I Write

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I write because while my voice is loud enough I know that the volume does not give me the strength to tell the truth.  My pen is more powerful than my tongue and sharper than my teeth, so it can bite and give necessary pain when in reality I cant even hurt a fly

I write because my head often spins with a cocktail of words that dont make sense unless I translate it onto paper. In dreams over clouds I’m often too drunk in the deluge of emotions that cascade in my heart in poetic phrases that pile up and it suffocates me…

I write because in this battle I am a soldier and I’d die if I wont fight with the ammo I know.

I write because otherwise Ill choke in my own words for the overload is heavy and the baggage is infected.

I write because… why not?

I write because… what else?

I write because… otherwise no one will understand

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Posted in love and relationships, my poetry, this is life

Will You Cross?

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One step. Two steps.
Will I take the ominous walk through an unfamiliar bridge?
Will you?
It’s an unstable and rotting structure
with truths masked
lies abounding
and there is a higher chance of you falling to oblivion
than ever making it to the other side.
But will you? 
Even if you are given no warranty,
no receipt of purchase
not a single fortifying evidence to make a claim?
 

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