She used to have a way with words, people said,
A story woven like a blanket,
Smothering yet comforting.
And so, she wrote.
But then came The War,
The War within her head,
Fear and destruction taking over,
Leaving numbness, trying to forget.
Nothing helped.
People, them, him, her, I.
How was she to set aside her past, her whimsical tragedy?
So she turned back to what she knew best.
Her egress away from the confront she faced.
And so, she wrote.
It wasn’t the same,
Beautiful? Yes, if the mass was to be trusted.
Validation streamed in, she trickled out.
A river drying up, a tree meeting its end,
She realised her art-
Her art was chaos, the same way she was.
And so she wrote.
Then came a time of peace,
Tranquility, as they say.
But she knew it was just a hiatus,
Until the gunpowder was filled again.
She tried.
Tried and tried so damn hard,
To write.
And so she wrote,
but she didn’t know what to write about,
what to do with the calm,
The unknown.
She wrote, but it stayed unfinished,
A lover never returning, a bird never landing, a story never ending.
All she’d ever learned,
Now she didn’t know.
All she’d ever thought to be gospel,
Now gibberish that her pillow heard at night.
But when The War struck again,
The battle regaining its might,
She wrote.
Wrote so fiercely, tempestuous in her rage,
That the words became ugly,
No longer a window to look out of,
But bars to hold onto desperately.
And so she wrote.
You know what they say,
Time tends to run away.
So there came a time again,
Where The War seemed to have come to an end.
And now,
There was no uneasy wait.
There was anticipation, hope,
A girl trying to peek into the future,
A girl trying to cheat life by living it better than it was allowing her to.
So now, she saw the colours,
Not just red, black or blue.
She saw yellow, she saw light, she saw green, she saw life, she saw purple and everything in-between,
She saw a girl, holding her hand and singing sweet.
She saw herself, swinging,
Not in that desolate lone swingset she passed by everyday,
but in a playground full of noise.
She heard.
Her hands itched, her mind ran,
Wanting to shout, wanting to burst into a cacophony of symphonies, wanting to fly.
The girl met her lover, the bird its family,
the story awaiting a happy ending.
And so,
She wrote.
…
Well ahem,
Hello there!
I was definitely not on an almost-year long break with no inspiration to write whatsoever, that was definitely NOT the case.
Those things aside, hey everybody! I hope everyone’s doing good, I know it’s been a long time since I’ve interacted with you all and I missed you, but hey I’m a college student now, living the adult life and everything.
So I hope you enjoyed that poem(?) and all I can say is that I hope this will help me get back into the flow of posting again.
*Fingers crossed* see you soon,
Bye XX,
SLTD.
SimonLeBis 