the poet's mourning is not pretty,
as everybody thinks it is.
it is ugly,
disgusting,
and jagged.
it cuts deep into the heart of the poet,
pulling apart the delicate threads,
that hold her together.
it is solid,
despairing,
and heavy.
it drags her down deep beneath,
pulling the remains of what used to be happiness,
that slip between her fingers.
it is terrible,
this mourning.
but at the same time,
isn't it beautiful?
it is the only type of mourning the poet can have,
it is unique only to her.
because everyone has their own type of mourning,
their own way of coping,
and only they can truly understand it.
and while it is the worst thing to behold,
it can also be the most beautiful,
a sign of everyone's individual uniquity.
YOU ARE READING
𝐟𝐨𝐥𝐤𝐥𝐨𝐫𝐞,, poetry
Poetry──── ⋆⋅ ❝ 𝐭𝐚𝐤𝐞 𝐦𝐞 𝐭𝐨 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐥𝐚𝐤𝐞𝐬 𝐰𝐡𝐞𝐫𝐞 𝐚𝐥𝐥 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐩𝐨𝐞𝐭𝐬 𝐰𝐞𝐧𝐭 𝐭𝐨 𝐝𝐢𝐞 ❞⋅⋆ ── just some simple, little thoughts, poems and songs i wrote while listening to folklore one afternoon<3 track titles by taylor swift ⋅
