TearlessA Poem by beautifulbladepersonal poem
I sit within pages,
reading lies between lines and listening to the lives that the words display before me. Remember the days of better times, living one moment just because and laughing out loud without abbreviations. We pocket memories that won't last unless they are scarred upon the innermost corners of ourselves. Speaking of scars... I've lost count of mine. At times they still hurt, like a phantom limb that isn't there but the brain still wants to see. There is no logic that keeps me trapped inside my story, running through forgotten chapters with bold headings and cliff-hanger endings but that continue to bleed until the end is written on the last piece of paper. I suffer heartache like a common cold, over and over until my nose runs and my eyes are puffy and I can no longer cry. Perhaps if I cried again, just one more time, I could heal. I could sew up these open wounds that I won't let anyone see, and turn them into scars that I am no longer ashamed of... ... but even as I write and read, even as my voice cracks and my jaw trembles... there are no tears. So instead, I will draw out my emotions with a keyboard, type them up with a string of words put together to form a thought that I didn't know I had. I will place band-aids with my fingertips, glue my soul with letters and prose until I am out of breath from my poetry. I'll be chained to a part of me that no one ever sees but that they only ever feel because my sentences hit home harder than any hug ever could. I sit between the pages of my life, breathe pieces of myself into the lies that I speak and the truth that I type. The only question is... who will care enough to find the difference?
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1 Review Added on September 12, 2015 Last Updated on October 4, 2015 AuthorbeautifulbladeMNAboutMy name is Mariah Lichty. I'm 20 years old and have been writing for around six years. more..Writing
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