My Words
My words are not meant
For prying eyes
For the eyes would burn
If they find what my words disguise
That treacherous ocean
From my last haiku
Isn’t what you think
My ocean isn’t really blue
That souring bird
With wings aflame
That’s me away from this world
That’s me playing my own game
My flowers wilting
And born of the night
They aren’t really flowers
They’re not for mere sight
The stories of stars
Loved by the darkened sky
Were killed by battle lust
Yes, I made myself cry
The boy with wings
The sun and his fallen lover
Show them in their joy
Before it was smothered
My words of numbness
Of darkness and death
Are an attempt to comfort
Those left by its theft
Because all my words
And poems in flurries
Are not mere words
They’re heart wrenching stories
The stories of this place
Are read by few
Yet it’s here we are all set free
For here is the place words are born anew
This doesnt exactly go with the prompt, but it’s definitely inspired by it. I got to go back to a lot of my old poems for this one, so it was really fun. In this poem I tired to show that not everyone is going to understand our writings. Some topics we write about, for an abundance of reasons, might not be understood or appreciated by others. But with every word you write, you’re helping someone. Maybe it’s yourself, or someone going through something similar, or maybe you just brightened someones day. But you’re always helping someone, and your writing is always beautiful and exactly as it should be, don’t ever question that. You, and your abilities, are absolutely amazing. ❤️❤️❤️