towritelove

Felt in spired to write for the first time in a real long time. I have written pieces in the meantime, but none that actually got my blood pumping, that made it feel like the words were flowing from my fingertips, and I feel like I must share it, even if no one will read it.

Feelings wrapped around my head so sincere,
Sincere in the sense of truth seen through my own eyes,
Deception built on the words of others that people hold dear,
Even if know to be false, they allow their lives to contain such lies,
A child, hiding those dark marks and secrets of family abuse,
A teacher, drinking to consume the fact of sexual endeavor,
A waiter not speaking up of fellow coworkers self-inflicted wounds, muse,
A man, who refuses to voice his love for his dear friend... Fervor,
If only all those who hide would only but seek!
Then the truth may be dealt with rather than endured,
But there are those, such as I, who are not blinded by the bleak,
Bringing to light that which is hidden the the dark, cured,
This is what my mind creates, imagination unfolding,
A place where no one who be loved may be harmed, molding,
Wallflower secrets,
Gleams,
Blossomed mind-nets,
Dreams

Sorry if you don't follow, or seems disorganized, or anything strange, but this one just feels right, complete, and I am normally one for even, balanced composures.