Author Information
weary
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All Thats Left. dont mind,
if i lean your way, today
i'm just indifferent, with situations,
that i cant control,
as always.
speechless, i look at myself,
with such inward perspective,
looking clearer,
and yet i cant see in the mirror, what i stand for,
to her.
pause, these delicate flower like moments,
'cause they're all i'll remember,
as it comes time to sever,
myself from my roots,
i see how it's done,
as countless hours of time have been spent,
illustrating and personifying my imagination,
spun into the web,
listening to voices that serenade their soft lament,
with lullabies gone secret,
this poem is written, between the thin lines,
of thought and feeling,
it may seem without reason,
the way i unearth my meanings,
underneath a pile of indirect sense,
at the bottom,
testing my faith,
next to a mountain of me,
her tired game at play,
i can't understand why it hurts,
to see, that she pushed away.
and i disassociate, and emulate,
into the things i don't want to feel,
becoming real.
