B
(I'm so stoked we have a poetry forum!!! xD Anyways, here you go.)
This isn’t me, this isn’t mine…
There’s no way I can stand on a pedestal with my back straight.
Your hand warms the shivers in my fears.
It’s the only way to rest in the middle of survival.
I’m not being “fixed” I’m mending, but my scars still itch.
I don’t want to sing through the wrong megaphone.
“Let Your voice not be the loudest, but the clearest!”
And adventure consists of movement and structure.
We all live one, but not all live one dipped in meaning.
Drench my woes and melt them like wax,
let the fire burn into an epiphany of hope.
Center it between the dread and excuses.
It burns through the callouses,
it breaks the selfishness.
This isn’t me, this isn’t mine…
There’s no way I can stand on a pedestal with my back straight.
Your hand warms the shivers in my fears.
It’s the only way to rest in the middle of survival.
I’m not being “fixed” I’m mending, but my scars still itch.
I don’t want to sing through the wrong megaphone.
“Let Your voice not be the loudest, but the clearest!”
And adventure consists of movement and structure.
We all live one, but not all live one dipped in meaning.
Drench my woes and melt them like wax,
let the fire burn into an epiphany of hope.
Center it between the dread and excuses.
It burns through the callouses,
it breaks the selfishness.