Wings of Stone and Hearts of Glass
Broken crystals in the light of day
as wings crack and break and turn to stone
my feathers are becoming useless
with every negative emotion
the silence creeping over my skin and my heart
until all that remains is a shell where my soul used to be
I'm trying to learn
how to let go
but its hard when the pain of this world
insists on drowning my happiness
in endless rounds of dramatic shenanigans
Talking is never a thing that happens here
when trying to resolve the emotions, distress
the only response from the noisy mass
is a litany of 'be quiet' and 'stop talking to me'
as if my voice has no meaning,
soon enough I fall silent,
and retreat to deal with my thoughts and my pain
alone
as I crystallize from the inside out
and I think
that maybe becoming a statue...
isn't something to be feared
and instead I should welcome it.
because statues do not feel pain
or fear
or love
statues do not feel
they do not overthink
or drive others away.
they are statues,
and once this cold overtakes me
I will become one too.
as wings crack and break and turn to stone
my feathers are becoming useless
with every negative emotion
the silence creeping over my skin and my heart
until all that remains is a shell where my soul used to be
I'm trying to learn
how to let go
but its hard when the pain of this world
insists on drowning my happiness
in endless rounds of dramatic shenanigans
Talking is never a thing that happens here
when trying to resolve the emotions, distress
the only response from the noisy mass
is a litany of 'be quiet' and 'stop talking to me'
as if my voice has no meaning,
soon enough I fall silent,
and retreat to deal with my thoughts and my pain
alone
as I crystallize from the inside out
and I think
that maybe becoming a statue...
isn't something to be feared
and instead I should welcome it.
because statues do not feel pain
or fear
or love
statues do not feel
they do not overthink
or drive others away.
they are statues,
and once this cold overtakes me
I will become one too.