Without Words to Say

another poem detailing my crippling inefficiency as a poet, and the pain it inflicts on me.

The exquisite pain of lacking words,

To be a musician without notes,

A painter devoid of eyes,

Or a dancer frozen forever in time.

 

To have a false heart,

Pretending as a stoic boulder,

Stony in the face of pain,

Able to weather the storm.

 

And the words of this crumbling stone,

Trapped behind wired lips,

Unable to express pain,

Much less the eloquence of bitter love.

 

My lips and eyes together,

Forever empty, a void,

With no words or tears,

but those trapped within.

 

So I rot forevermore onward,

An eyeless stitch-mouthed monstrosity,

With prayer in my palms to be freed,

For the stiches to be split.

 

One day I will weep to see the light of day,

and   sing a symphony of ancient words.

By: Torrin A. Greathouse

Reviews

[David]

Rather dark wouldn't ya say???Am I the only one who finds it kind of odd how so much great writing comes from feeling your writing is terrible,it's one of the only things where you'd almost want to lack faith.I'll stop rambling on now.But this really makes you stop and think about the writing process,great work man.