written by: Ophelia Nightingale
When I cry poetry and aesthetic melodies,
I whisper to the moon and urge it to hear me.
As my eyes glisten,
My mind is clouded with bittersweet nostalgia that lingers.
My warm skin touches the moist and invigorating breeze
As my fingers meet the soft sand
Considering the weather tonight,
I still lift my optimal smile.
The rain is now pouring strong
Maybe if I sit still, not moving an inch,
Perhaps I can drown myself with further inhibitions
Other than my self-deprecating thoughts.
I seek validation through reading artistic poetries,
I may not be able to find it
But I am certain it’ll help me
As I go through a process of resurgence.
My mind is undeniably tangled
With obsessive and vague thoughts
That I, myself can’t cope with
Will I ever find tranquillity with this random urge to vanish?
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