She walks along,
Having thoughts rumble in her head
She walks along,
Listening to the sounds that drive her to edge.
She tries to remember,
A happy conversation,
She tries to recall,
A day without a brittle.
He says she is just too moody,
And perhaps she is. . .
But she has found both,
Freedom and safety in her moodiness.
Freedom from loneliness,
Its her own haven.
And safety,
from being understood.
For those who understands her,
Also enslaves something in her.
Having thoughts rumble in her head
She walks along,
Listening to the sounds that drive her to edge.
She tries to remember,
A happy conversation,
She tries to recall,
A day without a brittle.
He says she is just too moody,
And perhaps she is. . .
But she has found both,
Freedom and safety in her moodiness.
Freedom from loneliness,
Its her own haven.
And safety,
from being understood.
For those who understands her,
Also enslaves something in her.
1 comment:
guess sometimes being buried within yourself is your best haven. no one around, just yourself, your emotions. you are the only person who will understand yourself the best.
love ur poem :)
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