It does not feel like floating
Like butterflies Or blushing But it does feel like a choice That if I was in a team Of two I would be happy If the other person Was you Do you understand what I'm talking about? - Atlas
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Choosing to do nothing is
Still a choice-- Closing every door Before you get a chance To see the other side Not a particularly creative poem, but relating open/closed doors to choices resonates a lot with me so here we are -Atlas Inspiration comes and goes as it pleases
Yet I remain Putting pencil to paper Like a prayer That I might one day make something With meaning Ho hum - Atlas Leave the door cracked open
When you leave Because to choose one path entirely means to lose all others And you never know When you might need to turn back a.k.a. making life decisions is hard and I usually try to keep my options open until the very last minute (huzzah) - Atlas The day lives and dies twice
As it ends It alights Blazing with colors A whole second life (A sunset's an ending But it's still filled with light) Serves me right for attempting rhythm/rhyme schemes - Atlas This is the finale,
The sendoff Unremarkable in every way Except that something stirs in my gut And whispers This is the last time, The last time. Whaaaaaat I'm not nervous about going back to school in a week what are you talking about hahaha that's so silly - Atlas Words do not come easily
Like they used to. Sometimes, I wait For feelings to condense themselves into Something comprehensible And when that fails I grit my teeth And drag them out one by one. The end result is messy, broken But it exists And I start anew. I am not good at poetry - Atlas Art is like a puddle--
Flat, and shallow But it can reflect the sky and the trees And it can even show you yourself, Depending on how you look at it. It sounded better in my head haha - Atlas There are some things
That cannot be captured by words In all their unique glory Like the way ink unfolds in water Or the precise colors of a sunset Words alone cannot descripe The simple imperfections on a rose Or the sound a heart makes when it opens For the first time. I both like and dislike this poem. Hmm - Atlas There has never been a sound
Quite so loud Or quiet As a heartbeat Steadily beating on When everything in the world says it should be otherwise Existing is kind of a miracle, if you think about it a bit - Atlas |
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