Day 260: Inside Out

Some say that poetry comes from strange places, whether they are from moments that make you smile, some that make you sad or whether they are reflective reminders of your winnings and losses in life. What makes them special is the fact that they are constantly changing from the places that we write from and of the places we write about. These writings for better or for worse come from the things we comprehend as a shared experience between one who writes and reads. Somewhere in between all the smiles and heartaches, lies a place we both share. Are you reading still?

Inside Out
For want of better or worse, this is all I take
A bit of my memories and a little bit of heartache
Cuddled up on warm couches or passed out on floors
Some warm bodies who have felt the morning indoors

We are hidden sometimes, under wraps & in repairs
Fighting a sleepless night, staying up finding what is fair
There are some things that never break, always hold true
They are like sticky notes that are permanently glued

We are songs that echo from wall to wall
In the staircases that go nowhere, as they stand tall
So we take them and reminisce of what used to be
Connections between people & open doors that set us free

This is all I take, even if they are pieces combined
These are my "original", they are impossible translations to find
So I write sometimes, with a faintly brewed cup of tea
Pour my soul on paper, hoping this is who I am, still me