Whispers

 The winds are stronger than ever.

In them whispers of my worst float.

With those winds my demons come to light.

Demons desperate for acceptance, for salvation.

In those ears tales will be told,

Tales of my past, tales of my worst.

And with those winds you will float.

Like a fleet of birds migrating late in the summer.

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In those winds legends shall spread,

And despise for the poet shall follow.

But the isolate poet will write.

The isolate poet will cry.

And the world will smile.

The whispers in the wind shall destroy the little we had.

And those eyes shall see these demons.

The phoenix I am, the monster, the curse.

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And in a dark silent room,

The lone poet shall continue to write

To write to you, to write for you.

For that heart will not be to blame.

To blame for being carried by the wind,

To blame for having seen those demons

To blame for listening to the whispers

For it remains humble, innocent and pure.

Just like it was when it all started.

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And after the winds die down,

And the whispers slowly diminish,

In that silence the lone poet will wait.

Ready to show the truth.

Along with all the ghosts of the past.

And maybe in that world,

A world far far away.

A world of colour, roses and unicorns,

Smiles and rainbows in the snow,

The winds shall whisper yet again.

In a different voice, in a different tone

One I hope remains in that heart for eternity.

                                ………………………………………………………………………..

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………..in a dark cold quiet lonely studio apartment

A lone poet scribbles on paper.

With a blue pen and bleeding heart.

The words float in the blood.

And the blood flows in search of you.