Untitled poem

This is awful, but I thought I should post it anyway, as I haven't posted in a long time. Sorry :( just very ill at the moment and currently feeling very uninspired :( sorry

*

There’s nothing I can do
No, nothing quite at all
To make you understand
The reason for my fall
Lets take a drop of whispers
Of weathered melodies
And slice them up together
With distant memories

Lets take a finger and scratch it
Scratch the fear away
After all it doesn’t matter
It’s gone by yesterday
I have something to tell you
There’s something on my mind
Yet your sitting here, my witness
With the problems I can’t find

Why is that I struggle?
To find the words to gasp
Whilst all the time I’m hiding
Behind the harshest masks
I have something to tell you
But you’ll never offer ears
So instead I’ll guess I’ll drown you
In hiccups and in tears

Why is it that I whimper
When there’s nothing wrong at all?
Or maybe that’s the reason
A reason for the fall
There’s a something deep inside of throat
A croaking
Yet it’s quite remote
You had a time when nothing seemed
Pleasant, spectacular
You departed in dreams

Why is it that I see in you what I used to see in me?
The way you simply turn away
When your eyes decline to see
There’s someone trapped inside of you
Please let me set them free

I know this isn’t poetry
This isn’t even work
This is simply just a expression
Of how much I am hurt
Sometimes I feel I’ve glass shards
In the corners of my eyes
And that every time I nearly succeed
I’m losing due to lies

Why is that there’s others
I wish that I could hold
Why is it that I’m losing (them)
My story seems foretold
Great things I wished to happen
Back when I was too young
Yet now I feel so different
I’ve been bitter, I’ve been stung

Why is it that I’m petty?
This writing isn’t mine
In fact I’d never write this script
These words don’t intertwine
It’s not the thoughts I like to think
It’s not the words I use
I’ve lost my portrait,
I need inspiration, I need a muse

Why is there nothing left for me to bring me back to I
I guess you’re getting tiresome now
(Let’s call this verse Goodbye.)
I’ve released something into words I wouldn’t normally speak
Just listen close
Just open, please.
I’m drowning, and I’m weak.

~ misshapenskies

Comitatu

A friend of mine bought me a book a while ago called The Writers Block which is literally a little block book with ideas and one word prompts for writers suffering from writers block. This poem that I wrote was a product of my "sudden decline of work D:" and although it's not perfect, and needs a lot of work - I thought I would upload it anyway - IT'S SOMETHING.

Here is Comitatu:



Comitatu

My imagination is currently at the station. 
I’m sat down on benches,
Hands stuck to gum
I gaze at the tracks
Smile, breath and sit back
Examining the grooves
and the patterns of my thumb

Individualistic tendencies
I’m constantly thinking of conspiracies
Knitting up ideas in a cardboard box
Then I look down and see the stitches
Drop, and it’s hard
to keep out of my mind
But when I open the lock
I can’t seem to find, the reason
As to why
I can’t seem to write

I’m losing inspiration
Still here at the station
Then suddenly I see a train fly by
Its shot like a catapult
Running, racing, catch it
STOP!
is it my fault if I can’t see it?

All the ideas are at the next junction
My mind is jammed
It simply won’t function

This picture belongs to Google Images

Further Clarification

This was a poem I wrote about a year ago. There used to be a place where I would go when I just needed to sit and think - and this poem is about that. Feel free to comment :) criticism is what I need!

Further clarification

 Out I bound

To this occasional

 Loquacious spring wonderland

A garden so serene in the dawn of frost

Yet others would see as none

I see so much more

Than the Simple

Sepia of that sky

I will deny the primary colours

They are not the sky

The greens and blues

Begin to fuse

Creating something more

On my tongue, catching the warmth in my eyes

I taste the nature of my place

In the black shadow of my hair

This escape for my emotions

Thus is cardinal

And as I gaze through my

Sealed lids that picture only reality

I look at the dancing figure that is me

A spinning little filigree

Once my questions are answered

I’ll thank the sun that sets

In the west

Winking at my grin

Laughing with the soft wind

Then, as it gives me one last soft kiss

I’ll turn my back

To the old oak tree

 Gone,

 skipping back in my crisp white blouse

~ misshapenskies

I do not own the picture.