The beat of her heart,
Into poem each goes,
Each dark thought and feeling otherwise left unheard and which she throws,
A deep shadow brought to light,
One beam shot from a lantern to the corner with its own might,
In the pen in the ink,
Shelter yet courage we find,
The thorns on our stems,
Hide the flower above,
But this pen, is the hard iron key to unlatch the door at the base,
To reveal the heavy stair up within,
This paper and pen,
Are my wings to the sky they say does not exist and is tin,
This paper and pen,
Are the stitches which mend my mind and heart,
This paper and pen,
Are the door to great depths hidden below and above, far and wide.
My only way to defend,
Against the blaring wind outside my own mind,
Where the wind is hard and cold and peace you cannot find,
Shredding claws and gnashing teeth,
Out there the storm never fails,
Take my pen from its sheath,
Guide the lost soul,
In the outside,
Wandering alone.
Out there I go,
To shelter the lost,
No matter the cost,
With my pen to guide,
My pen so lantern bright,
My pen a shelter and save.
YOU ARE READING
Outlook
Poetry***WARNING- Extreme gore, violence, and suggestive themes*** Poetry, of course, but this is my style my way. Don't like it? I really do not care. This expresses some of my deepest thoughts which I have never said nor written down before. If you do r...
