Diving in the world of panic,
my flesh and muse are faulty still.
My eyes are torn between romantic,
roman statues, morals killed.
I have no number, sky or sea,
only others speak through me.
They’re in my fingers, in the ink,
my pens can’t win and I can’t think.
I’m stripped of bones to make their rooms,
body fluorescent, like the moon.
And I hear singing when I sleep.
I, nocturnal, shout defeat.
Although they hide inside my sight,
they come to play on quiet nights,
still no one sees, but I digress.
Sometimes I think it’s for the best.
People see a paper person.
Torn with feathers, eyes undone.
They cannot hear or see the world
that’s in these bones, inside this girl.
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I love the theme of fragility in this piece, the vulnerable titan expressing angst through soothing wordplay. but it’s the metaphor that blows me away the most: “I have no number, sky or sea, only others speak through me.” Breathtaking 🙂 Thank you for sharing this amazing piece of work.
I love hearing how others interpret my writings. Thank you so much! 🙂
wow, you write so well.. I’d name all that I love in this poem but it would be a looong list… well done, truly fantastic piece! 🙂
Thank you! You’re too kind. 🙂
Splendid flow and great feel to this piece. Well done.
Thank you so much! 🙂
Enjoyed the flow here. Nicely penned.
I appreciate that a lot, thank you! 🙂
Great write! Thanks for sharing.
Thank you for reading it! 🙂
Great work! those last four lines got me.
I’m glad they did, thank you for reading 🙂
The title drew me in and I’m so glad I read it.
Thank you, I’m glad you liked it! 🙂
‘i’ c the world…
much enjoyed!
Thank you for reading again, I appreciate that 🙂