Rain batters the window
An apocalypse of sound
Trying to enter uninvited
Streaking down the glass
Obscuring my view
Hiding the world beyond
A world that once mattered
A world I'd always wanted to see
But a world that wouldn't accept me
I accepted their stares
I weathered their glares
And
In the awkward silence between words
I grasped at things to say
That ran
Like children playing tag
And I was blindfolded
Inside
The black cloth covering
My inner eyes
Placed there by me
But
It's also my inner eyes that see
Raindrops on glass
The window my own barrier
The storming rain
My own assault
The glares
And stares
Not really there
I sit
By the window
And I tell me
It's OK to be
OK to want
Or wish
Or have or hope or cry or laugh
At the top of your voice
From the top of the world
It's OK to be
Me
اوووه! هذه الصورة لا تتبع إرشادات المحتوى الخاصة بنا. لمتابعة النشر، يرجى إزالتها أو تحميل صورة أخرى.
Do you ever feel as if you're looking outside and there's a storm trying to get in? Do you feel you're taking shelter inside yourself because, if you don't, you're being judged - even though, reason tells you no one is judging you at all. They don't see the struggle within. They don't see that, rather than them being judgmental, you're all the judge your jury needs.
They don't see because it doesn't occur to them. Not about you. Not about me. They see the smile and think it's all fine.
Do you ever imagine , if you could just step outside yourself, into that imaginary storm, it could - and wish it would - just wash you away?
أنت تقرأ
Pieces of Me
الشعرPoetry can give an insight to the soul of the writer. Or the reader. Poetry can touch on the feelings you don't want to admit to, and those you wish you could celebrate. On life. On time. On what it is to be you. Here's Pieces of Me, a poetic intros...
