Thursday, March 8, 2012

Poem : The Journal

Bound by leather
Worn by age
My journal truly understands me
It’s tattered pages creak when I turn them
Too many rides of backpack adventures
Of day to day travel
For it’s the tool that allows me to drift
Drift farther, and farther, from reality
For reality is much to mundane
Much too hypocritical
And I think, are my thoughts what others call hearing voices
Do their thoughts sound so foreign
So beyond what they think is obtainable
That they believe it’s not their own thinking at all
So programmed by the world all around them
That any differing must be a sickness
It’s way to easy to become labeled with an illness
If you speak what others are afraid to say
Yet praised if your writing becomes viable
But Journal, you're safe
I wont let them read you
I’ll keep you locked away
Far from their sight
Until you are needed to awaken the minds of the sleeping
Sleepwalking their way right through life
Oh Journal, maybe it’s time to display you
Set you free from my holding
Or maybe I'll keep you hidden a little while longer
Far from their reach, far from their sight

Published at The Rainbow Rose 12-26-2011

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