Sometimes, there is an end to words, to describing to telling about the state of things. And so I find a bit of salvation in poetry:
A beautiful and inspiring gem I found on Indie Feed. Play. Listen. Repeat.
And a little somethin’ from me:
I’m on the verge, on the verge, on the verge
Of being un-branded, un-scared
On the verge
Of lookin’ in that mirror and
Strip it down, dress it up, know thyself
and to that be true.
On the verge of an internal tidal wave;
opposite coasts uprising and colliding and drenching
my new self.
On the verge of turning
thoughts to words and those
which cannot be put into words
to rhymes and beats and sweat
On the verge, on the verge, on the verge
of the Other defining me.
And not being scared of sincerity
even when it hurts.
On the verge…of shedding this false identity.