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The words have stopped flowing ages ago The reigns of my imagination have been handed to someone else While enjoying their words I have grown lax My decomposing mind is unable to create new worlds I find myself unable to express my emotions Passions and feelings lie there, at the tip of my tongue But unable to transcend Unable to simply be My world feels empty Desolate and grey The colors swirl in my mind, like a cord ready to be taken I remain a coward, unwilling to tether myself to it The commodity of safety is too precious a luxury I tell myself If I am unable to fly, I remain unable to fall |
if this is the frustrated failings of love and not the poet's fumbling for just the right word then fear is the appropriate avatar rather than frustration when the terms aren't clear | Posted on 2014-04-19 00:00:00 | by rws | [ Reply to This ] | |