she said,
creating is like breathing to me
because she couldn't not create
it was in her blood,
in her nature,
in her soul:
she was always writing
drawing
making music
always trying so hard to bring
a little bit of beauty
to the world.
she said,
creating is like breathing to me
but she was choking
energy lost,
her life force smothered
by the monster in her head
and she couldn't draw breath
no air
no air
because the words were all gone
and the pictures in her head
did not look beautiful on paper
and the chords were all wrong
when she tried to explain it all
in a song
and the monster had its claws
wrapped around her heart
and was nibbling at the edges of
her soul, feeding
on everything she was and everything
she cared about
and she was afraid
and she told no one
because she didn't want the monster
to get out and hurt the people
she called her friends.
I know that we can win. <3
I can't really explain it in detail, but what you've said in this poem ... You have explained your entire situation in a poetic stature. Most people wouldn't be able to see past all the metaphors and hidden meanings and such... But I can see perfectly clear what you're going through...
You must ascend, spread your wings, let your soul's inner beauty outgrow the monster's hatred. Overcome it, consume it with love, innocence, curiosity. Explore the wonders of being free from the monster's grip...
I was actually going to post another depressing-as-shit poem, but I came home and saw your comments on this and my journal and it was gone.