Every memory of every people I've met
All lined up, like pictures hanging
From a nice, pretty string
Which could be so easily burned with a cigarette
A shame that I don't smoke
And sometimes, drinking could do me good
Yet, I still don't think that I could
Give it all away, as if it's some kind of joke
They're all here, smiling or not
And sometimes, I remember that it's my fault
If they got away, if they stayed
Each one of them left a mark, even though some fade
With time, sunlight and care
Each time I look at them, the flare
Blinds me, reminds me how painful memories
Can be when one does not mind their reveries
Here, the one that changed me so profoundly
There, the day I took the golden scissors
To cut the ties that still hung from my wrists, proudly
Because it meant that all of the sinners
That would follow me to the end, to my grave
Haunting me, screaming in my ears, never forgave
Every mistake I've made, every lie I've told
As the stories of our resentment and errors unfold
And when the pictures talk, how frightful!
Their mouth move and the words escape
They don't mean a thing, too spiteful
Or they mean the world, depending on their shape
They say all the things I wished I heard earlier
Before I moved on with my life and stitched
All of my wounds on my own, though I'm a worrier
Simply guilty of having been bewitched
But I'm a warrior, too.
I've always been better by myself, but I'll keep
These pictures on this string, and weep.
YOU ARE READING
Mind of a Wanderess - A Collection of Poems
PoetryThis book is a collection of the poems I write, whenever my muse and my mood tell me to do so. Here, in this book, you can have access to a young woman's thoughts and feelings. /warning: my style is very random, and most of my poems are written in o...
