Penning Pain

Incessantly it continued, bees who oozed out the sweetness from the flowers aimed me for I know not how long. My ruptured childhood, scary reality, unfulfilled promises rushed towards me killing what I strive to achieve, peace. My subconscious begs me to escape the dominance of subdued thoughts. I am a leaf clinging to the branch of hope in a land of eternal Winter waiting for a drowning light. 

I sit up stained in residue. My window shakes from the thunder of the untimely storm, turmoil in nature reflecting my inner thoughts.The lonely clock on the blue wall of my one roomed apartment striked two. I fell back on the cushion of love I found in the vastness of words framing into prose. A pen, from which flows the pain, transformed into light to guide me through the night, soothing my soul by drinking out of me the unrest that restrains me from a good night’s rest. One only learns to clam the storm in the midst of chaos, there is no other way. 

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