Hi, I'm Michael. I'm twenty-five, happily married, and struggle with anxiety. I've always enjoyed making music, but I've always had a love of words. As self therapy, I keep a memo with me at all times, and this is where 90% of the poems I post will come from. Sporadic, random thoughts. I don't want to just borrow these thoughts in a notebook anymore. I desire to share them.
I am a weaver of words. Make no mistake I said words, not wisdom. I am a coniessuer of simulies, and synonyms. My shelves are lined with glass beakers and tubes containing syllables, but I am no alchemist. Make no mistake, though, I am a poet. I will reach for the sharpest edges of your mind, and whether I come home with lifelong scars or your lifelong adoration - I don't mind. No, I don't behave like someone with something to say, I don't pry. I just sit and sift my words through mesh until only the most complex remain. Because cliche is a killer, it won't impress. How many others are out there right now with calices between their thumbs and index fingers speaking the same words I am? If you feel like you have already heard this before, it's because you haven't. At the end of a stanza or the conclusion of a verse all of the colors start to fade. These pictures I have painted in your thoughts are temporary. Make no mistake, though, the feelings are endless.
All poems are copyright of the originating author. Permission must be obtained before using or performing others' poems.
Viewed 23 times since 16 Mar 2018
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