Why do the sounds make their own emotions,
ripple effect and creeping notions?
Who gave them personality, and riddled these notes
with sorrow, sadness, and grieving
Who took the noise and made it into song,
my voice stands unclean in a sea
of salty tears and breaking glass bottles and
brevity never seemed so subtle before
And who made beautiful into bittersweet syllables,
like you know that beauty entails more than sight
it takes a part all of your senses
smell, touch, and hearing
So I ask, why do the sounds make their own emotions,
like there aren’t enough feelings already going around
and who decided that this beauty would
forever be crisply coating my insides
all of my organs are laced with faint sorrow
derived from the beautiful, that is tart on its own now
When will my words ever make sense,
cohesive. together, and lacking mess
I’ve made a mess of all emotion
taking hope and smothering it in reality
taking love and wrapping it in sanity
When I make my love into a monument
will you stand tall to reach the top of it
when I make my heart irrelevant
will you be there to grab a hold of it
Accepting This 