Following

Me n my poems

Each poem is a part of me

Like the eyes in which you use to see

Or the heart you use to decide if it’s meant to be;

The hands you wring when you feel guilty

And the tongue you use to taste ecstasy

Each letter combined to make a word

Put together pieces my thoughts in a way most absurd

And it’s comforting to hear something I’ve already heard

But from someone else who’s thoughts aren’t as blurred

Each word that takes up a space

Is read with no meaning, apace

And like the fragility of a dead child’s lace

The meaning falls on deaf ears and fails to touch base

It isn’t a cry for help, as some want to believe

Yet it is still a last minute chance to aggrieve

And take all the tricks that are stored up my sleeve;

And take all my belongings, and take my leave

Whether to the void or away from home

I don’t know: either way I’m alone

Caught up in a conversation with the voices in my head

Each of them loudly wishing me dead

Each letter they speak and each word they say

Is bled out on paper each day

Each poem is a part of me,

Doomed forever to follow with much guarantee

And never to leave, for I don’t have the key

But as long as I can write and let what’s to be, be

Then each poem doesn’t have to be a part of me