Fluently

May 26, 2010
By Bianca GOLD, New York, New York
Bianca GOLD, New York, New York
19 articles 0 photos 4 comments

I sit, and I watch.
I breathe in, and I sigh.
In my surroundings,
I see, but only peripherally
How the gift also bestowed upon me
Is slowly being torn to shreds
Abusively.
And, it pains me so.
To watch how those beings,
Use my shared anomaly
Nefariously.
I sigh, a discontented sigh.
At those who dabble a little in everything.
Tilting the odds in their way.
Ripping opportunity from others,
Others much like me,
Blessed with only one passion,
Cursed with the chance of crashing.
And pen in hand, I lean back and
I see, but only peripherally
How suddenly,
I vanish in my dreams,
And it seems that I am replaced
And my dream begins to terrify me.
As I watch it flutter by,
Rewarding someone else with my goal.
But, it only makes me want it more
Competitively so.
And so while others massacre
My anomaly.
While others treat it abusively.
I caress it, softly.
Care for it, lovingly so.
How can I mistreat the flow of my words,
The scratch of my pen.
How can I ignore the blank of a page,
The structure of my rhyme.
I can’t, for you see,
That while I ignore,
I also sit, and watch,
Write and feel,
Letting my heart swell,
My eyes blur,
And I see, peripherally, what is
Around me.
And I go blind,
Letting my soul write for me.
Letting only my mind analyze closely
That which I am feeling.
Because like those who
Write angrily and emotionally,
I too speak the
Language of poetry.



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