PostPoems Be Artistic. Be Creative. Be Inspired!

This animal has never quieted, never retreated, never failing its purpose. It itself has transformed into my ambition, hope, and drive. How much, I wonder, of my personality pulls sanity from the insane? How much of me is lost to itself? Enveloping around and around and down in it's own way, lost forever in the folds... What is the quiet boy locked away truly thinking? Am I still him or am I simply predator playing house pet?

Its as if a thousand suns inside me burn, I may be in love with the world but that does not satisfy my need to be embraced. I desire comfort and companionship in this walk of life, and yet I am found wanting. The poet in me speaks through desire, love, and courage. He displaces events in lyrical order and observes them but he never acts to change anything.

In the end I can never live a day without both parties. War as they might, the combination of the two is what makes the man that lives today. The poet, a scared, romantic boy locked somewhere deep inside his wounds, crying always, feeling every thing so deeply that he is simply impossible to ignore. He can't act for he is locked away, held tightly in the folds. The animal, the beast from within grown from the seeds of doubt. A parasite even, expands and grows in every new part of the shell, it makes it its own.
The cold undaunting animal, that will find a way to overcome every obstacle thrown

The shell, the third piece of my being, is the man you see before you now. Typing these words in his cute little story to find an outlet for the boy inside him to speak and keep his demons at bay.