Life Written in Poetry
When the anger that fuels the passion dies down,
When the boiling blood thickens so it can write no more,
I’d lie as the husk of my previous self, 124 more words
6 months, 3 weeks
To live is to write,
And to write is to relive what marks your life,
And what mark our lives– often times– are what kill us inside, and so, 221 more words
I would no longer write
For what good does it do
If it kills those long dead,
And plead the love that’s come and gone. 78 more words
It’s hidden behind the careful lines–
That one word that’s never written here.
It’s laced between the thoughts that curl like vines,
That one mysterious word we often hear. 107 more words
I let the melodies speak for me,
Give it my heart, my soul– everything it could carry.
I let the words flow right past me… 67 more words
Let me talk to you:
With words, my own writ of truth
As your name in my mind.
Let this speak for me:
Of the things I’d never dare say, 104 more words
I’d write them straight out of my mind,
In careless loops of letters on any paper I could find.
Like a barren land at the first drop of rain, 110 more words