this heart was beating wildly, as if it would hatch a butterfly and pounce rhythmically out of my chest
they say the souls of the dead live on in these magical flying creatures
hatching from all those things that died in me, melted under tears
and then redrew their flight paths in quiet cocoons
into the dark place where light grows, fluttering wings in tremor-like dream states
feeling safer in the dark than the light
safer unspoken
in a world heaving with missiles and microphones
and fake laughs, psychological governmental brainwashing, numb rhetoric and failing empathy
all the things that make us human seem to be slipping away out of my grasp
desperate for a place I have never been
even though it lives inside me,
looking for the combination to all those locks and shudders and cold places pencilled in my diary
desperate to transform through metamorphosis and break the lock
to fly to unknown realms and bring back the treasure to decode my exsistence
and spread the wildest of these wings,
nailed to something better than pain
to feel supported by the intelligent consciousness unseen but known
By Woodsy (https://woodsydotblog.wordpress.com) & Amber (diosraw.com)
Reblogged this on Woodsy the Performance Poet and commented:
Just speaking the struggle out…
LikeLiked by 1 person
Well said, yes. 🖤🙏
LikeLiked by 1 person
so beautiful… nice full working
LikeLiked by 1 person
Thanks, I appreciate. 🖤🙏
LikeLike
Reblogged this on Love and Love Alone.
LikeLiked by 1 person
Thanks
LikeLike