mrsari

Well, I suppose I can keep the pieces I'm working on here. Enjoy!

Every time that pen touches paper,
your words turn into gold
Flowing forth like the eternal flowing
of a [pristine] stream.

Each word, a pebble,
Upon first glance, tis merely a wet rock,
dirty and covered in algae.

But when you step back
When you take it all in, cue
the sharp inhale, the tickling tear.
You get a glimpse of what everyone else misses;
I'm sorry they didn't look hard enough.

I can only dream of being
so inspirational. How does it feel to
Be the reason behind someone else's words,
how does it feel to finally hear words with love and good intent?
I'm sorry they didn't try harder for you.

I can only dream of being talented,
instead I struggle to get my words out right.
Instead I find myself finding strength behind
others voicing their fears.


And the other:


Like each ash that falls
from a cigarette in a dully lit,
poorly furnished room.

Like the smoke, lashing at
the walls and causing the wallpaper to tear,
to peel.

Like each negative word that
falls from that mouth, you lose a little more of yourself.

Why are you so detrimental
to your own health?

Like a bullet shot into the flesh
Like the pain that shoots through you
each time you paint those targets on your wrists,
I hope what I'm saying goes
right through you