Salty drops
Type:
Author:
Poem:		41697
Why do salty drops fall of my face? Why do they constantly keep the pores of my cheeks flooded with their taste? To many i am something to be adored But i wonder sometimes what is there to be adored I sometimes feel like a weed constantly uprooted emotionally from the ground/ fighting to reconfigure my roots in something solid/ its been unstable and bumpy/ at times it has gotten real ugly/ but i am of an adaptive spirit/ upturned and tossed but i come back stronger and put away every loss/ always looking forward never backward/ my present is not rosy/ i put on a smiling face but on the inside im feeling cold, black as my skin, and stony/ as the rain of a precious loves presence falls on me/ my tears are a mingled mixture of joy and sorrow not just for everything else but for me/ in humility i come down from my superficial pedestel fall on my weary knees and cry out/.....silence....../my voice echoes back like a mourning chorus filled with doubt/ dragging my stomach on the rocky bottom/ the pain is so sweet to me/ so ill to me/ it reminds me that in not invincible and always shows me a way out/ im wounded and scarred so badly that to many it looks like its irreversabile/ but ima turn the turn of a rotating turn table/ and out of it will come my bittersweet song/ starting out innocent/ then sounding cold, beaten and lonely...just to get into a colder, deeper, and lonlier string of sounds/ until i rise up and my soul feels as if it set free!/ the tone of that note will embrace and envelop me/ break my barriers down/ so that again i start to weep/ a deep wail that starts from the inside then slowly spreads unto the outside from within/ tears again dropping from my eyes until the next day and the next/ blurring my eyes and the very words of this text/ i know in the back of my mind that i am a exotic flower/ maybe with a few petals missing but im still drinking in the pure taste of the shower/ as the rain of a precious loves presence falls on me/ i grow and i know i can still sustain and maintain this little garden of emotions, rises, and falls, that makes me...me.
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