to share, but feel like I have to put it out there somewhere, aswell as my paper journal. It's a little sad how resentment can make you bitter one moment, and cry inside the next. But the power of poetry and the written word can be so therapeutic.
It's a little rough around the edges, but free verse is the idea - literally free-thoughts falling onto my page.
I'm not sure it's meant to be read aloud... Read on if you wish.
[semi-untitled] aka 'The Witching Hour'
Welcome to the witching hour
Here I wish to transform
From mere mortal
To the enchante of all
Can you hear the clock
It says tick, tock, talk.
Talk to me, and tell me
why you have this incessant
need to lie to me.
Lie to my face, to the others
Lie present in my dream.
Wishing nothing more than
for you to hear my conscious scream.
Welcome. To my bewitching hour.
Do you remember me?
My kind, tolerant heart?
Your magic and mystery,
Presence and power
Succumbed me from the start.
There was time, and plenty of it.
In the wind and rain
I withered, waiting.
Still I hear the silence,
you choose to ignore it.
I have gone from mad to sad,
Out of breath, distraught
Moment upon moment
Pushing away these life lessons
I'm being taught.
Stay away, come close
My heart has been torn
Tick, tock, talk, it calls for you
But it is I who has transformed.
Now we are through.
The witching hour.
Chloe Jane
21 July 2009
