feedback jeder art The poet

[Porzellanschreibt]

You say you like my poems 

That it fascinates you 

how our views differ 

Which is a nicer way for you to tell me 

I’m overreacting 

Don’t worry, I don’t like my poems either

They are almost never good enough and sometimes I hate the way a gentle stroke of a cool summer breeze against my porcelain skin in the midst of summer brings me to tears

These riddled monologues, whispered from my shaky fragile lips, spending hours and hours making my suffering sound beautiful

decorating wounds, painting beautiful pictures only for them to be hanged on the walls of a burning home, that is my heart

I try so hard…

spend hours and hours on a coma!

Looking at your eyes, I realise once more, my heart isn’t enough, one heart isn’t enough, I need all the hearts in the world to properly love you

Yes..

I am actually just trying to say I love you

In a dead language

Left for you to desipher

Why can’t I just talk like normal people? 

Why do I need to draw words from my heart like blood from my veins

Words always win? 

Such a Brason lie, they almost always lose

I should have learned math instead

Cause, recently I’ve lost *count* of my wounds