Writer’s pain- Part two.
Silence speaks the masses
Yet we are the soul that
Breaks the tongues into
Speech; Bursting our
Hearts liquor towards
A lone piece of canvas
Frustrated youths carve
Hate into the word love;
Twisting bitter sheets of
Sweat into pools of
Violence; yet we are
The truth that sings
Louder than actions can
Ever match; ink to eyelids,
Viva la torn paper
Write to shed light, to hell with broken dreams
these kids are alone, so write away their screams.
Pull your chest closer
They need your heart
To be in your rib cage;
Or else who will scribe
Away their tears in the
Rain? Breathe into
Their throats
To allow them to see
Their lungs are all that
Is needed to succeed
Numbing your finger
Tips only result in
A crying shame
Write to shed light, to hell with broken dreams
these kids are alone, so write away their screams.
Women’s underwear
Must be far from mind
When you bring the pen
To utter words of heart;
An art form cannot be
Used as a date rape
Write to reach to those
Who see turmoil as the
Only escape; take your
Art form and clap the easel
Into applause my friends
Write to shed light, to hell with broken dreams
these kids are alone, so write away their screams.
-Poeta
