I thought I was strong enough to take the pain
that you handed me with your own two hands,
but it’s hard to swallow the silence that burns
the very essence of me that I’ve given to you.
I thought you’d be different, cut above the fold,
but you’re just like the rest, and I’m the fool
believing the exquisite words that flowed from your lips,
drinking from them like water to quench my thirst.
I thought that waiting won’t be long,
that you’ll come and heed my call,
but you’ve shrouded yourself in your own shadows,
and now I’m just drifting on my own.
-The Elusive Scribe 101513-
I’ve often stumbled when stringing words together,
to put together a clearer picture of what is running in
I thought I can be as amazing as the gods of poetry,
names you already know and have read endlessly.
I was mistaken.
I am but a child still learning how to form a word,
a thought that will clearly be understood by his
What he wants, why he cries.
I’ve picked up my pen only to lower it down.
My thoughts incoherent all a jumble.
I start to write words only to erase them with a bold
not the way i thought writing would be.
I was thinking that maybe a light bulb will turn on
somewhere in my mind,
to light my path so the words will flow to my pen
so I can write without any hindrances.
Only to find out that the bulb is busted
and I’m still searching for words to write down.
-The Elusive Scribe 020413-