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Chardome Ruben

A poet's mind

 

A poet’s mind

 

 

The pen is the translator of a torn-apart soul’s misery;

The heart is waiting for the brain’s sudden epiphany;

The vast white pages are the canvas for the falling, longing tears,

And the caged birds are patiently waiting for the relief of our fears.

 

We are hopeless romanticizers, that see the needle in the haystack;

Delicate and forever loving black swans, forever wanting back;

Courageous believers, who see the sprinkle of truth in any storm of lies;

We observe the stars and how they meticulously align.

 

We paint with the colors of our feelings, the world’s most precious language;

Brushing past the history of our beloved ancestors’ heavy baggage;

An antique craft of tortured souls, a nightingale’s mesmerizing concert;

We translate with verses our pain and our ruby-red hurt.

 

We are cloudy minds, covering with eye-catching words a fragile facade;

We are the creators of the world’s lightning-struck masquerade,

Overthinking, overanalyzing, over-dreaming, we take the fall;

We are the dancers, in the middle of this ridiculous masked ball.

 

We bleed our crimson blood, we scream our deluge of feelings;

We cry the pouring rain, we make the roses red with our bleeding;

Who would know that we are the green grass covering the grave of our past;

Growing flowers in a soil that will break, that will never last.

 

We are the moon, circling around and glowing in the night;

We are the grey curtain of sadness, hiding the bright blue sky;

We listen to our destiny’s whispers, words could never convey,

How we float around the gravitational pull, it’s a cosmic ballet.

 


Our melodies flow like slow rivers in spring;

We are proud lions, leaders of emotions, fighting to be king;

We’re solitary birds, we have millions of thoughts to say,

And loneliness crawls in, when after a crime, we fly away.

 

We are the soft haunting shadow, we are the silhouette,

Of our past’s most deep-cutting, ever-bleeding regrets;

We try to jump off that speeding, dangerous train,

But we still stand in the memory-loaded rain, waiting in vain.

 

We construct a mirage, because we need a comfortable lie;

We find ourselves pretending that rainbows come to life,

Because as it seems, sun and rain, make the sky turn hopeful,

We forget about the unknown, about what’s “oh so awful”.

 

And as the sun sets, we still are mortals, like everybody else

But when we leave this precious pearl, we leave a white farewell

So, don’t ask us to forget, what we ever felt inside;

Because you never die, oh darling, how could you ever die, in a poet’s mind.

 

 

 

 




Envoyé: 18:53 Sun, 24 March 2024 par: Chardome Ruben age: 16

Chardome Ruben

You left

You left

 

 

 

You left

You left because the sky was too bright

Because the clouds were too white

You told me the silence was too bold

 And the rain was getting cold

 

You left

You left and blamed it on me

Just when my heart found back the rusted key

That you'd let fall in the ocean of inconvenience

Lost in the vast nothing of my credence

 

You left

How am I supposed to feel, knowing you were trying to dim my light

Knowing that you were planning the end in sight

When I was opening up my midnight blue heart

To finally let someone into my sealed vault

 

You left

And the mountains I moved were only ephemeral

I always changed to please you, I've always been alchemical

You took advantage of my insecurities, they were always so lethal

While you and all your perfect flaws, stayed identical

 

You left

And the hopes I had flew away with you

My newborn trust vanished, leaving me painted blue

The tears falling down my eyes were dried

By the burning and raw anger in my pride

 

You left

You made the skies turn gray

With every word I'd dare to say

Painted me as the bad guy

With your slithering lies

You knew they weren’t true

You knew it

You know it

 

You left

You thought about your own garden of thorns

Never noticing how much my roses for you had grown

You promised me we'd keep them burning red

Hopes and promises now are dead

 

So, what was the reason

For your angels to fall down

What was the true reason

For the black swans to drown

 

I'll never have the answers

I’ll never really know

Your guilty conscience's laughter

Stabs down my broken soul

 


 




Envoyé: 18:54 Sun, 24 March 2024 par: Chardome Ruben age: 16

Chardome Ruben

One centimetre

One centimetre

 

 

Cold air, rough on my red cheeks

Blood on my hands, which I made myself bleed

If you saw me on the edge of death

Would you take away the words you said?

 

Like a crow in the night you were always complaining

Like a dandelion, at every angry blow I was self-erasing

You said if you didn't feel it then you wouldn't fake it

What would I have to do, to make you admit it?

 

If the headlines press the words on the paper

My name, black on white but red on your hands

On the bars of the prison in your mind, they linger

Would it remind you of the pain and your unreachable demands?

 

So if I hear the sirens and see the red and blue

The crows would fly away to keep on haunting you

In a hospital bed, that with my hurt I'd share

Would you show up then, would you then care?

 

And if the machine broke and my heart fell asleep

If the skies cried out, to cut you so deep

If the clouds’ tears fell on your hair again

Would you feel some sadness, would you miss me then?

 

If I lay quiet, on my bed of morphine

Listening to the lullabies of my wooden coffin

You would probably try to plead your case

But would you kneel on the grass, tears rolling down your face?

 

It doesn’t matter, because now I'm here, on the edge of my mind

Still balancing, where no one could find

If I slipped one centimetre more

Would it make you love me, like you did before?

 

 

 




Envoyé: 18:57 Sun, 24 March 2024 par: Chardome Ruben age: 16