They tell you to turn your pain into art.
Turn that heartbreak into long, detailed poems.
Comparing thousands of storms to the grief in your heart.
Comparing the darkness of the sky to the thoughts that run through your mind.
And we do.
We let our fingers create a masterpiece.
Let our mind wander to the darkest place
In order to express how we feel.
But what happens when it is days, months, or years later?
When the suffering is over and the grass turns into a garden?
And you sit here, reading word for word, remembering that moment.
The time when the moon within that sky was nowhere in sight.
When no one bothered to care for you when all you do is care.
When the crippling silence surrounding your body seemed so sinister.
Because it is.
Now the memories are haunting your mind.
Giving you flashbacks of the time where you felt complete despair.
The sadness is swallowing you up entirely.
Eating you alive until you are nothing, but a disturbing memory.
Turn those memories into love for yourself.
All the lightening in your sky has turned into a beautiful sunset.
And now you are here.
Your storm is over.
YOU ARE READING
older poems
Poetrythis is older poems. definitely at the beginning of my discovery of poetry. i am keeping these up to remember my progress. this is definitely not my newest, improved work.
