Caught up in Poetry @abstract-words123 - Tumblr Blog

Key chains are built

inside her heart and brain.

When she was born they were almost like a new toy a child opens on Christmas, shinny and untouched. She got older and her subconscious

started to pull on her ribbons engrained inside her, begging to come out of her skull and tie onto someone else’s mind.

The common sense part of her brain

was frozen in the past.

He decided he didn’t want to be bonded by her ropes that were tangled all around him

anymore and the chemistry was suddenly dead. The key chains were yanked very hard from her heart until their was a crack down the middle

which slowly expanded until it was broken into 2. And all the yanking

of something being pulled from her skull left a couple of scars on her mind. And those stayed on for a very long time. The safety pins that connected them together were once shinny and new

but now they are rusted and bent out of shape. But, wounds heal over time and this story’s not over yet.

Another tedious day

Another morning filled with

Kettle clicking

Knife chopping

Clock ticking

Cat screeching,

Cricket chirping, silence;

Another day stuck in this house that’s falling apart.

Maybe I should go on a walk

To convince myself there’s some kind of future ahead.

abstract-words123

On this windy autumn afternoon,

While colourful leaves fall off trees,

Nature sings a rustling tune,

And one leaf that falls below my feet stands out from all the others in this breeze,

The leaf is red, just like the maple leaf that represents a certain place,

It lies on the pavement while the other leaves are going after the wind in a chase,

abstract-words123

My thoughts are made up of tiny mismatched jigsaw pieces that can’t fit into one huge photo.

They are an amusement park ride that keeps spinning around in circles with no off switch.

These thoughts aren’t in a linear pattern full of meaning like stars that glow.

I want these pieces to be forgotten and thrown in a roadside ditch.

Hoping that my factory machines will shut down and the bats in my heart will cease to exist.

But, puzzle pieces and bats are not that easy to forget.

abstract-words123

Remember red, the PTSD nightmares and screams that make life afterwards seem glum.

The blood that comes gushing out of someone’s chest after an attempt on their own life.

Of a person who lived to tell this story because of their concerned wife.

Remember red, the colour of the medals he received while fighting pinned onto his jacket during this remembrance day ceremony.

Remember red, the poppies of condolences on the memorial wall with thousands of name plaques.

My thoughts are made up of tiny mismatched jigsaw pieces that can’t fit into one huge photo.

They are an amusement park ride that keeps spinning around in circles with no off switch.

These thoughts aren’t in a linear pattern full of meaning like stars that glow.

I want these pieces to be forgotten and thrown in a roadside ditch.

Hoping that my factory machines will shut down and the bats in my heart will cease to exist.

But, puzzle pieces and bats are not that easy to forget.

abstract-words123

Beauty is when the lake

sparkles like crystals

And my mind feels

at ease

in this silent world

that is distant

with a gorgeous sunset

in the sky.

A fire glows

inside my heart

And I feel this wave of relaxation

whenever I see

this breathtakingly

beautiful sight.

abstract-words123

A haiku poem

abstract-words123

Nostalgia

A ghost, who no longer exists in reality, only in her mind.

A person she looks for every night, but can never seem to find.

A little girl was eaten by a woman who seemingly lost her way.

Struggling to find any sort of future so she rewinds the past to keep problems at bay.

But, it’s impossible to retrieve someone she once buried in deep-seated mud.

Nostalgia, it takes away a life that could be by fixating on a life that will never again be flesh and blood.

Remember red, the PTSD nightmares and screams that make life afterwards seem glum.

The blood that comes gushing out of someone’s chest after an attempt on their own life.

Of a person who lived to tell this story because of their concerned wife.

Remember red, the colour of the medals he received while fighting pinned onto his jacket during this remembrance day ceremony.

Remember red, the poppies of condolences on the memorial wall with thousands of name plaques.

Beauty is when the lake

sparkles like crystals

And my mind feels

at ease

in this silent world

that is distant

with a gorgeous sunset

in the sky.

A fire glows

inside my heart

And I feel this wave of relaxation

whenever I see

this breathtakingly

beautiful sight.

A haiku poem

Nostalgia

A ghost, who no longer exists in reality, only in her mind.

A person she looks for every night, but can never seem to find.

A little girl was eaten by a woman who seemingly lost her way.

Struggling to find any sort of future so she rewinds the past to keep problems at bay.

But, it’s impossible to retrieve someone she once buried in deep-seated mud.

Nostalgia, it takes away a life that could be by fixating on a life that will never again be flesh and blood.

Key chains are built

inside her heart and brain.

When she was born they were almost like a new toy a child opens on Christmas, shinny and untouched. She got older and her subconscious

started to pull on her ribbons engrained inside her, begging to come out of her skull and tie onto someone else's mind.

The common sense part of her brain

was frozen in the past.

He decided he didn't want to be bonded by her ropes that were tangled all around him

anymore and the chemistry was suddenly dead. The key chains were yanked very hard from her heart until their was a crack down the middle

which slowly expanded until it was broken into 2. And all the yanking

of something being pulled from her skull left a couple of scars on her mind. And those stayed on for a very long time. The safety pins that connected them together were once shinny and new

but now they are rusted and bent out of shape. But, wounds heal over time and this story's not over yet.

On this windy autumn afternoon,

While colourful leaves fall off trees,

Nature sings a rustling tune,

And one leaf that falls below my feet stands out from all the others in this breeze,

The leaf is red, just like the maple leaf that represents a certain place,

It lies on the pavement while the other leaves are going after the wind in a chase,

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Caught up in Poetry