BLOGGER TEMPLATES AND TWITTER BACKGROUNDS »

....her own world....

Weird is the very nice description you would get;
different would definitely be a good one;
metaphoric would make it to the top ten list;
but a thorned-rose best describes this blog.

Disclaimer: (Art above is not mine)
This blog might be a bit depressing for some, emotions might be stirred, feelings affected, questions left unanswered, etc. Viewer discretion is advised.... If you don't like what you see, don't comment. Just close the tab and it won't bother you anymore. :)
Mi

15 May 2009

...Still heart...














In fear she smiles,

In pain she laughs.

When tears are shed,
she sheds some too;

But hers are strangely of joy....not the emotion,

Just the laughter that embodies it.


In their pain,

She is at a loss.
She cant seem to come up with a way to console,

Because while they cry tears, possibly bleeding from the heart,

She is in awe of their emotions.

She listens and gazes in wonder,
Almost happy and giddy, fighting back the constant urge to laugh,
Which seems more of the beast than a beauty at times...
Waltzing before her, seeming to taunt her as it moves.

How is it that they can cry so freely and release their pain,
Yet she remains trapped as she is,
Doomed to not feel, and when she does seem to feel,

To only laugh?
For when she tries hard to free her emotions,
She is sent back to the day they died.

As though cursed with only two choices:

To stay as she is, or return to when she stopped.


The pain is unbearable,

Like a knife twisting through her heart,
Seeming unable to decide if it should kill her or let her live.

Yet to feel again she must start from there,

Like time there froze, awaiting her return.


But the worst times are when they shed those tears,

And when she cares for them as best as she is capable,

But is unable to render any form of comfort to them in those times.

For weird and sad as it seems, her first instinct is to laugh when they cry!

And no, this is not in spite or in jest, for in her own way, she feels their pain.
But that is the only emotional symbol that remained unchained
So though she laughs, it does not mean she is happy,
For by no means is that so!


One asked if there was one thing she couldn't do,

That seemed to fascinate her.

For how do you answer that for all the many wonders I can perform,
I simply cannot be happy?
How do you answer that for all the many wonders I can perform,
The act of feeling is but a mystery to me?


In fear she smiles,
In pain she laughs,
Is there no other way to free her from this blissful-doom,
Than the other alternative which seems so intent on killing her with each try?

0 comments: