This broken brain of mine projects
a six-foot, shadowed silhouette
of a puppet, strung-out and plucked
by someone who looks and sounds
exactly how I may too often seem.
The void inside me quickly over-swells,
and strange skin transforms to spread
while I am left alone to wither.
Shapeless and hollow, that pit,
......
For months I've been trying to write
Trying to keep my pace, trying to fight
Organizing my words...it felt like suffering from a concussion
'Cause in scribbling I see no passion.
For weeks I've been trying to read
Fiction stories I love indeed
Thank you, Lori Brighton
I was able to explore the world in a new dimension.
......
I sometimes dream I am a caterpillar
who forgets to grow into a butterfly.
I burrow into leaves, breaking through their delicate venation.
I funnel my uncinate feet through curling petals,
I glide through the pungent weeds of uncertainty
and hang from gossamer threads of doubt.
I sometimes dream I am a caterpillar
blending into the mossy greens growing on decaying walls,
lost in the intricate forest and counting the unseen stars,
......
WHO but has seen
Once in his life, when youth and health ran high,
The fair, clear face of truth
Grow dark to his eye ?
Who but has known
Cold mists of doubt and icy questionings
Creep round him like a nightmare, blotting out
The sight of better things.
A hopeless hour,
......
Do you suffer loneliness at night?
Keep a hold
Are you stirred, shattered and shy?
Don't let it go
Is there any doubt when the hurt, the hurt it does you proud?
Draw circles round the targets,
Look how far you've came.
With bare feet, keep running
......
This broken brain of mine projects
a six-foot, shadowed silhouette
of a puppet, strung-out and plucked
by someone who looks and sounds
exactly how I may too often seem.
The void inside me quickly over-swells,
and strange skin transforms to spread
while I am left alone to wither.
Shapeless and hollow, that pit,
......
I sometimes dream I am a caterpillar
who forgets to grow into a butterfly.
I burrow into leaves, breaking through their delicate venation.
I funnel my uncinate feet through curling petals,
I glide through the pungent weeds of uncertainty
and hang from gossamer threads of doubt.
I sometimes dream I am a caterpillar
blending into the mossy greens growing on decaying walls,
lost in the intricate forest and counting the unseen stars,
......
Do you suffer loneliness at night?
Keep a hold
Are you stirred, shattered and shy?
Don't let it go
Is there any doubt when the hurt, the hurt it does you proud?
Draw circles round the targets,
Look how far you've came.
With bare feet, keep running
......
For months I've been trying to write
Trying to keep my pace, trying to fight
Organizing my words...it felt like suffering from a concussion
'Cause in scribbling I see no passion.
For weeks I've been trying to read
Fiction stories I love indeed
Thank you, Lori Brighton
I was able to explore the world in a new dimension.
......
WHO but has seen
Once in his life, when youth and health ran high,
The fair, clear face of truth
Grow dark to his eye ?
Who but has known
Cold mists of doubt and icy questionings
Creep round him like a nightmare, blotting out
The sight of better things.
A hopeless hour,
......