Moody

Moody

Some write about happy moments... that shape their pretty worlds
Sorry I have to tell you, I’m just not that type of girl
I delve into the under layers of thoughts about my life
Like making bad decisions… And not thinking about it twice
Wishing I didn’t do things, instead of the beauty of what’s done
Regretting past transgressions but not relishing battles I’ve won
I ponder difficult concepts and love to reflect upon their embers
This is the type of process that keeps my mind state limber
When love isn’t going great and when everything is out of place
It’s easier for me to translate my simmering internal earthquake
I love when flowers start to droop or when I forget my censored parachute
The down side of life gives me strange reasons to want to salute
It would be much easier to write about beautiful sunny skies
Or how he makes me happy, but I’d rather dissect his lies
Or how last winter he made me cry
Words about difficult subjects seem come to me on the fly
I’ve noticed this pattern... of dark and moody words
They gather inside my head like a flock of circling birds
Waiting to be fed
Or at least get outside of my head
The birds are like my words and when they’re released that's when they're fed
I’m the kind of poet that appreciates to solemnest of the shade
Not marching in the parade, where beautiful words are bound to cascade
But I put up no charades... when you look over my body of work
One observation could be made.. I write my best when I am hurt.