Vomit

Writing is my way of saying things I wouldn’t dare say

My paper and pen are my way of yelling at myself, the world, and all the sources of pain in the world

You can take away my paper and pen

But you can’t take away my passion

My voice

My drive

My heart

My courage

Nor my thoughts

Right now I’m bingeing

Taking in every single word

Consuming the entire dictionary

And one day I’m going to say the things I dare not say

They’ll be forced out of me like vomit

Uncontainable, irrepressible

That day will be exuberant

But for right now I’m bingeing

Taking in every single word

Pondering every single thing...

 

Comments

Dovakoda

Us poet-types are choosy with our words
It's hard for us to find our voices I think
We like our communication in a particular way
Breaking the rules of speech and writing
Care we do not because of the broken gates
Freed from our chains, we speak
of our minds, of our deaths,
Of our lives and all the rest

I call us poet-types to speak
To communicate in our strange way
for the passing of our days
To come together in support and make us
Make us love one another and support our emotions
Cradle the sadness we speak of
The natural sadness we found in our lost loves

Our lost lives that feel helpless forever and always

But stand tall we will, if we stand together.
My friend, My brother or sister, You and I are strong.
Love you I do. I promise that though your last life may be dead,
Life will start again, Life will be new.

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