December 16, 2016 · 4:03pm
Because if I don’t write, then what would be the point of pain? I feel like life was giving me some kind of poetry… and it is my duty to unveil it. And I don’t mean to share it; most of the time… I want to keep it only to myself. But then sometimes, it also feels like… I’m keeping something that wasn’t truly meant to be kept unknown; and unheard of… But to be discovered, and unbosom… to touch others; to help reach others by words,– if not by hand. It was made to conform. I feel as if… there is some secret message behind it, — a silver lining, after all. To make them feel that they aren’t completely alone. To make them realize that… there is someone, somewhere out there, who also feels the same way. That they have someone they can relate to… Somebody they can understand themselves with. To let them feel something. Not just to let them merely read the words. Because poetry is an art; and art, certainly, always supposed to mean something. Or even something else, and something more than what you can see. It isn’t just a prosaic combination of words, that were put aligned together… with a mere rhyming sound of each syllables. No, it’s got to be something more than that, and we have to get a little deeper to get there. And most likely, that’s when we go Anon. To give them the message without risking revealing your demure self that lives inside you. The one who does not have the courage to stand up and speak. But the words are there. As well as the paper; and the pen. Words that even though shallow; and even though simple… still have made you feel something, or that it had meant something. No matter how inferior, and defeated it may appeal… Or how mediocre it may seem, than intended to be… or is supposed to be. At least, it became something. It is something. Something that’s worldly; something like epiphany…
Because pain isn’t supposed to be just pain. It has to be something more than that.