She understands.
She thinks, she grasps, she lets go.
Yet, she understands.
The things she sees, feels;
The pain, the angst, the hurt -
She pours them on a palette and paints with them
On her words,
The face, the eyes, the mask of a being she only wants to exist.
And then she filters, layer by layer, through the reality,
The conscience; the unbearable humanity of it all
And yet, she feels,
Underneath the very folds of herself.
It pricks, at times;
Stings like anything.
And she observes,
Analyzes, knows
That all this will pass -
The anxiety, the rage, the infatuations
That rattle her bones at night.
And she resigns
To a peaceful slumber she doesn't want to be woken up from.
And yet, she cannot feel love.
She can only gaze at it, wonder;
Ruminate as it leaves her be,
Alone, isolated, cold.
And she thinks, grasps, lets go.
She understands.
She thinks, she grasps, she lets go.
Yet, she understands.
The things she sees, feels;
The pain, the angst, the hurt -
She pours them on a palette and paints with them
On her words,
The face, the eyes, the mask of a being she only wants to exist.
And then she filters, layer by layer, through the reality,
The conscience; the unbearable humanity of it all
And yet, she feels,
Underneath the very folds of herself.
It pricks, at times;
Stings like anything.
And she observes,
Analyzes, knows
That all this will pass -
The anxiety, the rage, the infatuations
That rattle her bones at night.
And she resigns
To a peaceful slumber she doesn't want to be woken up from.
And yet, she cannot feel love.
She can only gaze at it, wonder;
Ruminate as it leaves her be,
Alone, isolated, cold.
And she thinks, grasps, lets go.
She understands.
X-x-X
Comments (0)
Post a Comment