It's Not Poetic

how strange, to have your history be called poetic, when all it turned out to be was traumatic.

No matter how hard we all try,

Bad things are not poetic.

That girl, sitting at a table alone, waiting for someone who isn’t coming is not poetic.

Scars on your body are not poetic.

Trauma is not poetic.

These things are painful.

And out of them may be borne some poetry, something to pull those pieces together into a picture.

But alone, as instances?

There is no poetry. There is no soundtrack playing in the background.

There’s breathing, loud and erratic.

There’s crying, lots of it.

There’s the sound of someone cracking their knuckles in anxiety.

But no music.

Music comes after.

We string songs together to form a soundtrack after the fact, to remind us of all of our feelings.

We don’t have words floating around in our heads,

perfectly composed in a compelling fashion,

Not while we are being tormented.

It is only after that we gather ourselves enough to try and figure out our thoughts into the form of barely edited words.

Because sometimes, we just don’t know.

We don’t know why we feel the way we do,

We don’t know why we are suddenly scared of things that held no fear before.

And it’s up to poetry to help up pull that into something that resembles a coherent thought,

so we can spit it out for others to find solace in.

To be comforted by the knowledge that someone out there could understand their pain, even when it's impossible for them to express, themselves.

Reviews

[DiaryKay]

Thumbs up....
Keep it coming, i hope to follow your works till i am well acquainted with you!!

[jude.elizabeth]

Thank you very much! I plan to keep it coming haha :)