Written expression is emotion at its peak; delve into it.
How much of my comfort would I surrender to my steel armor? Perhaps I must seek my soul by the country side farmer? - Where only sweat and silence
By Rachel Steinmetzabout a year ago in Poets
It is not to compare a message understood from an outsider than from one's own mind. And so, when telling a tale of depth,
Why does it take an endless begging of warmth to feel warm, if only a single frigid word can freeze even a sizzling part? Why does winning require swollen blood and everlasting scars,
I pinned so many hopes in you, dear, of you rising higher than your wings. Of starting courage up with fear, and patching your pores till trauma sings.
Cursed by those much pained. Toasted by oblivions. Caressed by fakers. - A rollercoaster. A beauty painted in grey. No clear black or white.
My heart cried instead of me so its broken tears will be concealed. I felt the dampness in hidden chambers, where filtered steel will be revealed.
Stealing the grace of a timed goal, is presence in her forgotten state. Making past and future whole, oblivious to the world's date.
How can I say I know when it is unknown what knowing means? It's a world full of created mysteries, Fact is based on what it seems.
Bites a million years. From now till forevermore. Silent as dry blood.
The grip of life can be a noose to a neck. Searing, tearing into flesh, fresh With newly birthed scars Nursed by the constant pain
To write is an art of revealing, And then feel the century-old layers peeling. * To write is to search and find the turbulent thoughts
Pain is something too deep to feel. It's easier to let it be. to stuff every emotion that could have been real to the deepest waves of the sea.
By Rachel Steinmetz2 years ago in Poets
