A poet’s mind
The pen is the translator of a torn-apart soul’s misery;
The heart is waiting for the brain’s sudden epiphany;
The vast white pages are the canvas for the falling, longing tears,
And the caged birds are patiently waiting for the relief of our fears.
We are hopeless romanticizers, that see the needle in the haystack;
Delicate and forever loving black swans, forever wanting back;
Courageous believers, who see the sprinkle of truth in any storm of lies;
We observe the stars and how they meticulously align.
We paint with the colors of our feelings, the world’s most precious language;
Brushing past the history of our beloved ancestors’ heavy baggage;
An antique craft of tortured souls, a nightingale’s mesmerizing concert;
We translate with verses our pain and our ruby-red hurt.
We are cloudy minds, covering with eye-catching words a fragile facade;
We are the creators of the world’s lightning-struck masquerade,
Overthinking, overanalyzing, over-dreaming, we take the fall;
We are the dancers, in the middle of this ridiculous masked ball.
We bleed our crimson blood, we scream our deluge of feelings;
We cry the pouring rain, we make the roses red with our bleeding;
Who would know that we are the green grass covering the grave of our past;
Growing flowers in a soil that will break, that will never last.
We are the moon, circling around and glowing in the night;
We are the grey curtain of sadness, hiding the bright blue sky;
We listen to our destiny’s whispers, words could never convey,
How we float around the gravitational pull, it’s a cosmic ballet.
Our melodies flow like slow rivers in spring;
We are proud lions, leaders of emotions, fighting to be king;
We’re solitary birds, we have millions of thoughts to say,
And loneliness crawls in, when after a crime, we fly away.
We are the soft haunting shadow, we are the silhouette,
Of our past’s most deep-cutting, ever-bleeding regrets;
We try to jump off that speeding, dangerous train,
But we still stand in the memory-loaded rain, waiting in vain.
We construct a mirage, because we need a comfortable lie;
We find ourselves pretending that rainbows come to life,
Because as it seems, sun and rain, make the sky turn hopeful,
We forget about the unknown, about what’s “oh so awful”.
And as the sun sets, we still are mortals, like everybody else
But when we leave this precious pearl, we leave a white farewell
So, don’t ask us to forget, what we ever felt inside;
Because you never die, oh darling, how could you ever die, in a poet’s mind.
You left
You left
You left because the sky was too bright
Because the clouds were too white
You told me the silence was too bold
And the rain was getting cold
You left
You left and blamed it on me
Just when my heart found back the rusted key
That you'd let fall in the ocean of inconvenience
Lost in the vast nothing of my credence
You left
How am I supposed to feel, knowing you were trying to dim my light
Knowing that you were planning the end in sight
When I was opening up my midnight blue heart
To finally let someone into my sealed vault
You left
And the mountains I moved were only ephemeral
I always changed to please you, I've always been alchemical
You took advantage of my insecurities, they were always so lethal
While you and all your perfect flaws, stayed identical
You left
And the hopes I had flew away with you
My newborn trust vanished, leaving me painted blue
The tears falling down my eyes were dried
By the burning and raw anger in my pride
You left
You made the skies turn gray
With every word I'd dare to say
Painted me as the bad guy
With your slithering lies
You knew they weren’t true
You knew it
You know it
You left
You thought about your own garden of thorns
Never noticing how much my roses for you had grown
You promised me we'd keep them burning red
Hopes and promises now are dead
So, what was the reason
For your angels to fall down
What was the true reason
For the black swans to drown
I'll never have the answers
I’ll never really know
Your guilty conscience's laughter
Stabs down my broken soul
One centimetre
Cold air, rough on my red cheeks
Blood on my hands, which I made myself bleed
If you saw me on the edge of death
Would you take away the words you said?
Like a crow in the night you were always complaining
Like a dandelion, at every angry blow I was self-erasing
You said if you didn't feel it then you wouldn't fake it
What would I have to do, to make you admit it?
If the headlines press the words on the paper
My name, black on white but red on your hands
On the bars of the prison in your mind, they linger
Would it remind you of the pain and your unreachable demands?
So if I hear the sirens and see the red and blue
The crows would fly away to keep on haunting you
In a hospital bed, that with my hurt I'd share
Would you show up then, would you then care?
And if the machine broke and my heart fell asleep
If the skies cried out, to cut you so deep
If the clouds’ tears fell on your hair again
Would you feel some sadness, would you miss me then?
If I lay quiet, on my bed of morphine
Listening to the lullabies of my wooden coffin
You would probably try to plead your case
But would you kneel on the grass, tears rolling down your face?
It doesn’t matter, because now I'm here, on the edge of my mind
Still balancing, where no one could find
If I slipped one centimetre more
Would it make you love me, like you did before?