I've always wanted to paint.
But I'm so afraid to try.
Thinking that it's just futile,
And another dead end solitary mile.
So I tried to write instead,
Thinking that words could fill the missing piece.
Almost believed that this could give me what I need.
But I know this ain't such a sweet escape.
Delving into the realm of my messy mind,
I tried to organize the chaotic thoughts deep within.
And focused on the words I wanted to sink in.
I tried picking the right letters that could fit a perfect paragraph.
Yet all I could make is just another piece of crap.
This is crazy, I know.
But writing seems to be far away.
Whenever I tried to hold a pen,
And make my ideas to happen,
Things doesn't go the way it should be.
And maybe, this is really not for me.
I tried closing my eyes once more.
Focusing a bit harder than before.
But my mind seems to shut off.
I can't think of any possible worthy lines to write.
Nor a witty punchline to make it bright.
With my eyes closed,
I see the simple truth I oversee.
My hand actually aches for a brush,
And it yearns for a touch.
That, with every strokes I made,
And every colors I mixed,
It could give me divine solitude and bliss.
Lost in thoughts and lost for words,
I realized, I don't need to think hard.
Or do things out of ordinary mind.
All I have to do is trust my hand.
And it will take care of everything with no command.
BINABASA MO ANG
Unspoken
PoetryWords that linger at the corner of my head, still remain unspoken... This is the compilation of my words, thoughts, poems, and drafts that remained in my journal for quite some time. I started writing some of this since 2015 but I just recently dec...
