I'm becoming something I dont wish to be.
My fragility regains strength.
My soul lacks the agility,
To extend my visions to a greater length.
The truth, fortold, I've always been asked.
Is it paranoia? Or retardedness?
From all those faces that I've masked,
I seek the truth, from a wilderness.
I regain consciousness,
From my awaken comatose.
I chiseled away those scrapes of failure,
Broke those barriers, which froze.
Let my journey begin,
From the truth, I must convey,
That mine isn't the unjust sin,
Just sermons I had given away.
I believe the truth is still buried,
Deep with my thickened skin,
A huge concession, a great progression,
I ask it to those, who're dearly akin.
Yet, my truth remains still,
It yearns to find it way,
To the opening that made its will,
Whether to say, or not to say.
Stay. Stay forever beside,
It shall be hard to leave me then,
When I'd have left, and you'd have cried,
For my unclear truth, and unkown den.
~:ZG:~
YOU ARE READING
Yin and Yang
Poetry"Painting is poetry that is seen rather than felt, and poetry is painting that is felt rather than seen." ― Leonardo da Vinci "Every heart sings a song, incomplete, until another heart whispers back. Those who wish to sing always find a song. At the...
