I was always happy to be that ear the people needed to heal,
I was happy to the be the shoulder on which they leaned
They named it kindness, oh trust me they did!
Was I ever wanting to be kind ? or was I really that happy?
Being the helping hand that I never received...
No ...Maybe I was jealous, of them as they had a chance to heal
Maybe I wanted them to listen once just like I did.
After the realisation that hit me that it wasnt always the reality
Unknowingly I undid the aggression that I hid deep within,
Again, not for the world but for the people who I called mine,
The anger to be heard, need of some good words, pats of their presence
Maybe that was all I ever dreamed,
but then again, I was woken up by the dawn of the day telling me it indeed was a dream.
I had enough of the expectations I locked myself in,
I knew it had to end And the end will be me,
I wanted the freedom that I deserved so I decided to be my own hand that helps me rise ,
My own words of praise in the morning rise,
And my own presence giving me the happy vibes.
But I still continue to be the listening ear
To peoples endless fright,
With a new meaning to my happiness,
I just continue to be my own muse in the dark rainy nights .
- N.N
YOU ARE READING
Whispers Of The Soul
PoetryHello there lovely readers this is N.N. Come along and feel the emotions in my poems. Some will make you smile, others might bring a tear. They reflect the rollercoaster of with our self, with moments of pure joy and times of deep sadness. Together...
