![]() ~ The ListenersA Poem by![]() ~ How detailed are perceptions? How detailed are people? How detailed are clues?![]() ~ The Listeners
The listeners, were everywhere As I was with them This rainy day, brought me inside Of this golden chapel where My introspective Voice asked me to stay, My insecure heart Wanted to run, but it was my last chance “I had to stay” " before it was too late! “Honestly” I have begged in my sleep, and screamed To you, to reach, asked you to come, So you could join The home, of our dream, Where violin strings Made a life of their own, And where words aren’t needed, But you didn’t understood You didn’t maybe even listen, You were stuck The prison of your own Restless thoughts, The flawless voice of your obsessions, The thousand rats in the gutter Of your head; Eating your poor soul, Spreading viruses To your once so clear thoughts The black velveteen fields Where you’d hiked for days Did not reached me, my dear, They never will. They never shall. For all the Phenomena, which came; You - weren’t one... the listeners were, They just listened precisely They always did.
~ Elisa Laura © 2014Author's Note
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Added on July 28, 2014Last Updated on August 12, 2014 Tags: Elisa Laura, E.L. Details, Perception, Eastern Europe, People, Thoughts, Dreams, Clues, Culture, Myths, Fantasy, Fiction, Reality, Love, Hate, Traditional |