Feelings flow from my pen like water down a small brook. New developments within myself act as the stones that direct the currents. Inside myself, I write upon the slate that is my soul. Carving and etching my emotions to leave a piece of my heart for someone to see. Is it really that important? Once I used this form of expression as a release of all feelings that are swelling inside of me. Now it becomes framed pictures of failures in love, life and existence. I continuously slap myself in the mind and heart trying to release, but still seeing the emotions day in and day out. Writing about my love, my chaos, my weaknesses is doing nothing more to help me. This does not make me feel as good as it used too. I'm standing at this brook I have created wondering what shall I do next. Take this pen, take my slate, take my heart and my soul, then do with them as you please. I don't need them anymore.
Reason for writing:
I'm done writing...Many of you should be happy...
Birth sign: Scorpio
You need to log in to edit this poem if it is yours.
View more poems by Charles Mathew Tyner III.