A novel of stanzas
Slowly but surely the mind inside of me settles the heart. The rages that echo inside my chest become more and more silent as the music vibrates throughout my soul. The lyrics beg for me to forgo all that I am fighting. There is nothing I can do, nor say anymore that will influence your thinking.
Yet I know I never really did. I was just some crazy woman you labelled long ago. Not one you ever really heard anymore. My cell was well padded. You only allowed my presence because you had to. I understand that now.
Looking back over my novel of poems I feel it is a good time to expose them now. I need to let them all out. The hues of yesterday seated next to me. The time of black and white. The rainbow sat on the outside until I was able to express me.
I look over the lines. I laugh at just how much the repeat I played. The words of my mind soaked into the parchment long ago and now they sing so the world can hear. I know somewhere someone knows me. Has been me and is now going through me.
On how I look forward to writing another novel. The necessity I have to get me out. To explore and expose all the grains of my soul. The travels, the distances, the loves, the failings, the general life I live. Ordinary yet very extraordinary.
Still I call none to your attention. I give my words to everyone now.
Prepared I am to get a stare down or the words of concern from people but I am tired. I have dealt and been dealt. I need to delete the emotions within me so I can move forward, so get ready for this novel, these stanzas colliding. Perhaps it is strange gratitude for you. This wondrous failing emotion I gain, it helps me soar. Helps me build.
Helps me to see what I hope not to cross again. For that I must always be thankful.
Yet I know I never really did. I was just some crazy woman you labelled long ago. Not one you ever really heard anymore. My cell was well padded. You only allowed my presence because you had to. I understand that now.
Looking back over my novel of poems I feel it is a good time to expose them now. I need to let them all out. The hues of yesterday seated next to me. The time of black and white. The rainbow sat on the outside until I was able to express me.
I look over the lines. I laugh at just how much the repeat I played. The words of my mind soaked into the parchment long ago and now they sing so the world can hear. I know somewhere someone knows me. Has been me and is now going through me.
On how I look forward to writing another novel. The necessity I have to get me out. To explore and expose all the grains of my soul. The travels, the distances, the loves, the failings, the general life I live. Ordinary yet very extraordinary.
Still I call none to your attention. I give my words to everyone now.
Prepared I am to get a stare down or the words of concern from people but I am tired. I have dealt and been dealt. I need to delete the emotions within me so I can move forward, so get ready for this novel, these stanzas colliding. Perhaps it is strange gratitude for you. This wondrous failing emotion I gain, it helps me soar. Helps me build.
Helps me to see what I hope not to cross again. For that I must always be thankful.
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