nr123456
Everything is great except the things that aren't and I have the power to fix those things and live truly, fully, and in my own wilderness.
My tears are dripping on these pages;
Creating little ink cages;
These poems take up too much time;
Why do they always seem to rhyme?
No matter how much I write;
I can never get the words quite right;
I can never say what I’m trying to say;
And one day I’ll be forced to pay.
I don’t know how to say the words inside my mind;
It feels as if I’m going blind;
These poems are not enough;
I’m a torch waiting to be snuffed.
I don’t know how to say the words inside my heart;
My silence is tearing me apart;
How do I say what I’m trying to say;
Without scaring him away?
I don’t know how to say the thoughts inside my head;
When I’d rather talk to him instead;
He brings a smile to my face;
And he has his very own kind of grace.
Just like that, he’s stuck in my brain;
I only seem to cause him pain;
Now my tears are running faster;
Sticking to this page like plaster.
I open my mouth and I try to speak;
But I always give up because I’m weak;
This isn’t how it has to be;
But how do I tell him he means the world to me?