Voices
I keep bleeding words and turn those wounds into art.
Swimming with my insecurities,
My heart says
“Don’t burn up your dream cities”
Laughing with my pain
My soul whispers
“Just let me fly , again”
Playing cards with my depression
My guardian angel advices
“Success is there, just beyond your vision”
Lying with my broken heart
My gut screams
“Just do your part”
Hoping with my broken spirit
My intuition tells
“All your worries aren’t legit”
Dancing with my misery
My instincts speak
“Just write your life poetry”
Image Credit: Brooklyn NY mural by Tristan Eaton.
The poet needs to correct the word “Advices”. I can understand and feel the writer’s pain.