Oh, This, Thus

The heart that seeks no place has found its own

Within the realm of knowing the unknown

That celebrates the undiscovered stars

Whose tears at night rain down on hidden scars

With words that come as metaphors by day

By nightfall goes to mind and stays to play

Who, mocked by those with laudable success

Surrenders to its god the wrong excess

The heart that digs the dirt in search of gold

Who fears its story never will be told

And holds the hands of ever grieving friends

Who never felt the trembling of those hands

Now writes upon the sheet that knows too much

With all the searching others reading such

To leave much of their yesterdays by dawn

For mastering the art of moving on.

Reviews

[Tha Wind AKA VERBAL OX]

ok, ok, i kind of follow, sort of follow, yet im just not able to fully swallow everything that your attempting to bring across. i will tell you what someone told me about my writing. you are a "selfish writer." now what is meant by that is that you tell a story from a perspective that only you would primarily ova-stand (which is exactly what i do to, so this is how i can recognize it). If you can, find a way to bring the reader along without taking away from what you want to deliver. keep writing.

[Oydrin]

Alright. Thank you very much. I'll work on lessening the selfishness then. This review helped a lot.