CampusMag

#ExpressYourself

Pencil and Paper

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By Mulamba Collins.

My mind is a mess
My heart hurts
My soul is sinking
My strength is sipping
I am not what I was
I am yet what I wanted
I stand on the edge
The verge of the end
The beginning of the end
I am lost and confused
I hear voices
I cannot listen to my own
My feet are stuck
In mud and I am running mad
I scream in silence
It is deafening
I must get out
But all doors are locked
All around are walls
Too high to climb
Too thick to break
A place safe to hide
Hide my tears and fears
Hide the scars and flaws
I long for peace
To catch a glimpse of hope
To hear happy voices
And cheerful laughter
I fake the smiles
I hide the pain
I embrace the hurt, alone
I am shut in
Behind doors that won’t open
Eyes that won’t see
Ears too busy to listen
Hearts that do not care
My music is all wrong
The strings are all broken
The notes have no value
The words I coin they deem worthless
I play myself to sleep
With bleeding fingers and broken dreams
I live in my nightmares
My company is but pencil and paper
I write for they dare not listen
I trace the edges of my empty space
I sketch the looming shadows
I pen the words they do not hear
On the paper I have emotions
I feel and I am free
The clouds are below my feet
I can sit on the moon
And my harp is made of golden strings
I write in pencil and on paper
The pain and hurt will be erased
Hopefully without a trace.

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