been trying to write myself out of the place
I’ve been lost in for months –
a broken wonderland
where all my mistakes are on
full display,
where all my insecurities have
found a home
and these letters are dancing across my vision,
with their sursurations of heartbreak and longing,
of oceans and stars and mountains,
of brief ardors and voiceless confessions
though,
they have never seen the beam, the warmth
of sun-kissed rooms,
because these spikes of doubt
that are making me feel as though everything I create is meaningless,
these spikes of doubt
that are cutting the oxygen from my lungs,
have been driven through my chest
by my own hand
far more times than I care to count
and I’m running a finger
over the jagged pieces
of the thousands of dreams
I’ve shattered,
because I never thought
myself to be enough
but now I’m
trying to find
the message of the universe in the sky,
in the palm of my hands, in the stretch of my graphite fingers
trying to find
myself even though I'm a drop in the sea;
trying to find
myself in the fleeting sensation
of my own breath and blood and bones
and there's a thousand mistakes to take,
but only one truth to live --
there's a thosaund moments to make,
but only one life to live
[so why not make the most of it?]
challenged myself to make a new poem with bits and pieces of old poems :,) it harder than I thought, actually. doesn't flow very well but oop.
thanks for reading! ♡
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