UntitledA Poem by Silent_S C R I P TI wrote a poem once Then I wrote it twice After the fifth time I knew nothing would suffice
They told me it was awful But wouldn’t tell me why I couldn’t dare believe them And see my passion die
Over and over I pleaded Just to know what was wrong Over and over they told me That I was horrible all along
I tried to shut them out To forget their bitter spiel Their criticism didn’t matter That nothing was ever ideal
The clicking of the keyboard The tapping of my toes Nothing ever mattered The words would no longer flow
I tried to write a story And then I wrote it twice After the fifth time I knew nothing would ever suffice
They told me it was awful But wouldn’t tell me why I started to believe them And I let my passion die
I started to forget No longer did I write I filled a box with literature And hid it from the light
Time and time would pass Nothing changed with age I didn’t dare pick up a pen To fill an empty page
Time just kept on ticking With that box still hidden away The shadows of a closet Keeping the bitterness at bay
I found that box not long ago Cardboard thick with dust I started to remembered The words I used to trust
I didn’t read poem Or flip a single page All I could think of was their words That trapped me in a cage
I thought of all hatred And how it made me cry Forced into submission No longer willing to try
I thought of all those pages That had never seen foreign eyes Of all the voices of criticism And how it was ever only mine
Of all the voices out there The harshest was my own Telling myself that I was awful Was what shook me to the bone
If foreign eyes found those pages Maybe I would know That I wasn’t completely awful That I just had work to go
To clean up all the edges To let the words just flow And not to second guess The words I had come to know
I found a friend to help me Hell, I even found a few They taught me not to judge myself That my assessments were hardly true
I listened to their advice Instead of my harsh judgment I gave my passion another chance And didn’t pause a moment
I wrote a poem once And then I wrote it twice After the second time I didn’t care to think if it would suffice © 2013 Silent_S C R I P TAuthor's Note
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Added on January 22, 2013Last Updated on January 23, 2013 Tags: writing, expression, criticism AuthorSilent_S C R I P TINAboutI am a bit here and a bit there. My tastes are eclectic, which is neither here nor there. All that aside. I enjoy writing, mainly staying within the realm of fiction short stories or novels. Occasiona.. more..Writing
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