Awaiting

I am me and me alone

I am eyes of letters drowning in poisoned ink

An ink of hatred bursting from weary pens

Flowing among my life of an empty forgotten canvas 

Awaiting to be turned into art.

 

I am a mouth of diaries raging in my mind

A mind of cages forbidden to be unlocked

Unfreed entangled secrets of truth

Awaiting to be turned into stories.

 

I am a soul of voices narrating in provoking tones

Tones of whispering solitude from a thought

Articulating pages of meaning

Awaiting to be turned into novels.

 

I am words of water splashing in modest waves

Waves of elegance unearthed from mistakes

Advising couragous honor of wit

Awaiting to be turned into wisdom.

 

I am a heart of emotion embracing in territory unknown

Unknown feelings of wrong ire

Creeping into translucent cocoons

Awaiting to be turned into love

I am me and me alone.

 

This poem is about: 
Me

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