"A wounded heart trapped in a corrupted world." -ML

Can it all seriously just slip away that easily ?

Like the simple cleansing in a shower, you step into it completely naked. Bearing all your scars and worries, and you lift your foot and you step into the secluded area. You turn on the water to how hot you want it to be and you shampoo your hair and create bubbles to cover your body…. The soap cleans all the dirt off of you and than you simply rinse it off. Although you see it as an everyday thing and it happens to everybody, what you don’t understand is that you never truly understand how much a shower can change a person unless you see the before and after. And it seems your meant to be more stunning in the after, so maybe, maybe the ending really is meant to last longer than the time in the rain.

"All life is an experiment. The more experiments you make the better." -Ralph Waldo Emerson

My old blog =)

meginator.wordpress.com

Only a startling few minutes before, the heart pumped, indulging alongside a pulse.

Subtle, but corrupt. Awaiting the tear to be dragged down her cheek. A silver weight chained to her tear, conveying a sparkle. An angry little man, called Grief, attempted to pull it lower from the safety of her chin. Holding it back, unwilling to be the daughter incubated by sorrow.

The imagination creates so many escapes, through loop holes in your life it seems at some point each and every speck of detail could be greater.

It’s only the fragments of memory, that I wish I could sway my flesh anchored worth, directly inside. The push and pull of love and loss as the volcano bursts at the slightest thought of seclusion. The entity of desire to wisp my simply mortal frame deeply snug between a soft cloth and a warm breeze. Oceans maybe? Seas of current only applauding the dolphins after they had their noisy engagements. A worldly vision of happiness and diverse angels simply roaming the planet to better their soul. A safe haven to clasp the clouds in one hand and drink from the softest streams in the left, to pick only the ripest fruits from the tree and sink my teeth into fresh snow when the winter droplets were ready to pour. A Pocahontas forest to claim nothing but inhale the access of everything, to find where balance can stay as is and one simple body can thrive with the rest of them. All the same, beating hearts and caring faces. To find the peace inside, and create a free breathless experience upheld in the mind of the dreamer. To escape into a detailed palace that would sadly never exist again.

Poetry is the simple satisfaction of telling the ultimate truth.

Poetry is the wood,
waiting for you to light the flame.

Poetry is the welcoming stage,
inviting you to sing your first solo.

Poetry is the monster inside you,
giving you a pen to take away the fear.

Poetry is the beating heart,
allowing you to fill it with love.

Poetry is the safe haven for fallen soldiers,
allowing you to write them a song.