I have words to say.
But I don’t know where they’ve gone.
or why they refuse to come out and play.
Perhaps they’ve managed to flee my mind-
Crossed the borders of my brain and
sought asylum on a warm, sane island.
Or Perhaps they’re just in hiding.
Or Perhaps they have united in protest of my writing.
That wouldn’t be surprising.
You know, Most days it feels like I just don’t belong-
Like something’s always wrong-
Like my life is a poorly executed, half-written song-
Like a half-inspired poem
Posted on this blog.
Many moons and many suns
Have come and gone-
And here I lay-
I have words to say-
A graveyard of bones buried inside-
Nights layered upon days layered upon nights-
Like bundles of scarves on an icy winter morning-
Knitted boulders upon my shoulders-
And still I’m frozen.
The Silence unbroken.
Most days I feel like I don’t belong
Like life is nothing but a half-written song.
Like all the words are long gone.
Like the stillness has won.
I had words to say.