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here's what i think.I was a better person when I wrote.here's what i think. by urban-lingo
I was a better person when I wrote about boys who'd never return my feelings on silver platters, and ships long lost, or drowned, at sea. It sounds like a disaster, but I only write well with the ashes of a crumpled, discarded spirit mixed with the still-warm tears of a troubled soul.
Words kept me human, for they are what makes us human, and they distanced me from the animal I could become. All I do now is stalk around the concrete city, pace about my enclosure, and think about how my bitterness and I can never be released in the wilderness again.
Before the city stole my words away, I was living in the harbor locked up in a crumbling lighthouse, hoping that some northeasterly wind would blow him back to me. I still yearn, but the sea-stained melody gets lost in the traffic and it's easier to be whole without it haunting my every second.
But, the truth is, I'm burning for more.
I'm not whole without part of him missing, and if I'm filling up the