Contradictions

Contradictions

I’m afraid of being right

I’m afraid of being wrong

I’m afraid of being quiet

I’m afraid of being loud

I’m afraid of blending in

I’m afraid of sticking out

I’m afraid of speaking my mind

I’m afraid of never being heard

I’m afraid of taking risks

I’m afraid of having regrets

I’m afraid of following my heart

I’m afraid of losing its beat

I’m afraid of finding love

I’m afraid of losing it

I’m afraid of my dreams

I’m afraid of never achieving them

I’m afraid of not being me

I’m afraid I’m a contradiction

The Question

The Question

It tugs at your mind
Like a forlorn child
Begging for attention
Whimpering to be heard
But when you dare to listen
The sound grates your ears
Like a scream
That you can still hear
When you clap your hands over your ears
To stem the bleeding
But the life force drains
Down your cheeks like tears
And you watch the droplets
Drip onto the floor
In a rhythmic staccato
Keeping time with your heartbeat
As your frantic pulse slows
As your body empties its veins
And you sink to the ground
Wondering why

This Poetry Thing

This Poetry Thing

I think this poetry thing
Is going to my head
Since now I can’t even think
Without putting my thoughts into stanzas
Without inserting needless line breaks
Without rhyming random words

I think this poetry thing
Is going to my head
Since now I can’t look at anything
Without hearing the whisper of the trees
Without seeing the story of the clouds
Without smelling the adventures in the kitchen

I think this poetry thing
Is going to my head
Since now I can’t write anything
Without making it a poem
Without chopping it into formats
Without putting it on my blog

I think this poetry thing
Is going to my head
Since now I’m supposed to be doing everything else
But, of course, I’m writing poetry