| Poems are always a welcome site for sore eyes |
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poems, poetry
Maybe I’m just not prepared to give it a name just yet.
Maybe it’s just a case of the blues
If only everything inside me is that simple.
It’s hard to sleep, I keep coming back to it.
The raging silence, the quiet dark.
If I have to pick a color for it, it would be smoky blue.
The color of moody skies and sulky seas.
A storm is coming.
And I’m not sure whether I want to hide from it or stand right in the middle of it.
My face raised against the heavy rain as it beats across my skin; to dance
with the drum of thunder, to run with the echoes of passing light.
To shout and raise my fists against the sheer pettiness of it.
Oh, to be reckless, to be irresponsible.
I thought I got over that phase.
Guess not.
It still lurks and plots its escape somehow.
Ready to spring at the tiniest chance to become…
Maybe it’s just a case of the blues
If only everything inside me is that simple.
It’s hard to sleep, I keep coming back to it.
The raging silence, the quiet dark.
If I have to pick a color for it, it would be smoky blue.
The color of moody skies and sulky seas.
A storm is coming.
And I’m not sure whether I want to hide from it or stand right in the middle of it.
My face raised against the heavy rain as it beats across my skin; to dance
with the drum of thunder, to run with the echoes of passing light.
To shout and raise my fists against the sheer pettiness of it.
Oh, to be reckless, to be irresponsible.
I thought I got over that phase.
Guess not.
It still lurks and plots its escape somehow.
Ready to spring at the tiniest chance to become…
