Check One, Check Two
Check one, check two.
Can you hear me coming through?
Forgive me if this lacks clarity,
But my internal capability
To process and feel is erratic
I end up with a bunch of static.
See I know writers with better reception
A better connection, deep introspection
Concerning the way they think and feel
Determining their own definitions of what’s real.
Most people write with these decisions in mind,
But these, for me, are much harder to find.
I write to feel, not to explain
Myself to others, or make my thoughts plain.
I write to find undefined, underlined emotions,
To allow my mind to sink in underlying oceans.
I’m met with waves of fear, pain, and grief,
Or the stillness of love, joy, and relief.
These subterranean, subconscious feelings
Never reach the surface of my defensive ceiling
Until the words themselves are said aloud.
It’s an introvert’s curse that I’ve been endowed.
When I write I intend to break the surface,
To dive deep down, and see what emerges.
Check one, check two.
I have finally gotten through.