Poem 16: WORDS

All these poems I wrote for you,
Beautiful, true maybe even cruel,
But all these words, I spit and throw up,
Like liquid sunsets mixed in with the sea,
Meaningless, a lost cause,
Cremated, but now an oak tree.
Birds stuck inside my hair,
Hair birthed from the ashes of the night sky,
They whisper words into my ear,
Words only I understand,
Only I’m able to comprehend.

I dreamt I was dancing, naked,
In the middle of a destruction,
In the middle of the remains
Of what was a battle field.
I danced, and danced.
Till my feet bled,
Till my legs gave in,
Till the sky was dusky red,
Till the enemies feared my power,
And fled.

I dreamt I was dancing,
In the middle of a destruction,
Beneath a torn moon,
The stars cried, we confused it as rain,
It is all a mere illusion,
A delusion created for us,
We truly do own nothing,
Not even our own bodies,
It belongs to the ground.

We simply seek and search,
A moon that’s full,
In one piece, exploding with energy,
A sky so bright, thriving with life,
That showed no cracks and does not leak.
Perfection, does not need to be unique,
Simply undamaged,
A sky that will camouflage our flaws,
Even guilts, shames, cries, and evils.
Upheavals.

No soul is perfect, or pure,
Bury your conscience,
We are all a little fucked up,
Nothing makes sense anymore,
Similar to this poem,
Because we are all a little broken,
From words that was spoken,
But more from words that were unspoken.

Let your skin soak in my tears,
Watch quietly,
As I undress to the world,
I watched the white tunnel disappear,
A failed attempt, once again,
My saviour. Is he really a saviour?
Now you can kiss me goodbye,
Without any spoken words.