I know painters paint it, composers play it, actors can act it...but what can writer's do?
Well, we can tell it in a story, we can convey it in a play, we can sing it in lyrics, and we can illustrate it in poems.
But, for the moment I am not a painter, a composer, an actor, or a writer...but I can explain it the only way I know how...
Frustratingly magnificent while also terribly unique.
Confusing and intriguing, and can also leave you weak.
Menacingly wonderful if not also specially designed,
All emotions put together, but right now they are all mine.
Rivaling with a person whom I've never seen before,
knowing that no matter what; I will always love him more.
Daunting and perilous, but sweet and caring too,
A feeling of elation when it means so much to you.
A rhythm in rhyme.
A feeling that can and will always transcend time.
The moment of that passing glance;
The crazy feeling of being lost in a trance....
The daydream of the soul's song,
The triumph and the elation, when other's think it's wrong.
the notes you sing
That one important idyllic dream.
That sickening feeling of despair.
As if you wonder why it was ever there.
The anger and the hate;
So overpowering it's hard to contemplate.
That moment of desire.
A stage in which your soul's on fire.
The pivotal turn.
The point in which your heart will burn.
The chance you have for your spirit to be sold.
Wanting only to have him to hold.
The night in which your conscious cries
Impossible tears that you despise.
That ache of knowing that he's not there,
A feeling that he can't be found anywhere.
Believing, that, with all your might.
Seeing him in your dreams that night.
Sometimes more than you could ever say,
certainly more than this little poem could every convey...