Wtfever

My erge to right anymore is fading.
Seems I speak from within yet I'm immitating.
Past experiences retold to the ear.
That's what I've been told oh so clear.
Yet every letter chosen means more than they've ever.
I can't believe I'm portrayed as clever.
Words expressed so true with meaning and purpose.
Left unread and if had feeling they'd be hurting.
I've opened up to hear sounds that confuse my mind.
I've never lied in one single line.
Yes I started writting along time ago.
But now I write with real emotion within every flow.
Cut down and falling from my hobby for its irrelivant.
Never taking notice in honest time spent.
I'm thinking about quiting this dead end.
No one seems to care how the heart bends.
Verbally discomforting to say the least.
But how am I to feed a hungry beast?
Giving all I can to ubnderstand my own point.
Somehow truth jotted down is found a void.
Not interesting enough to peek a look.
Guess I know where I stand in my unwritten book.
Spread upon pages with so much passion.
And there isn't a single curiousity attaching.
I just want to lay my finger to rest.
Even after giving my very own best.
I can't out do the hurt of being brushed aside.
I wish this resistance would tkae the explosiveness in my mind.
Far away and never return.
For the one thing I enjoy has been burned.
Taking from me the will to scribble another sentence.
Shutting down all inner sequences.
Seems my thing isn't good enough to see its meaning.
Maybe one day I'll wake up no longer dreaming.
That someone actually cares that someone is letting them know.
They mean the world to them and just wants it to show.
But its all good if that's how its seen.
Even if ever curve of the alphabet clings...... wtfever...

Published with Blogger-droid v2.0.6