deepundergroundpoetry.com
Me & Marilyn...
More often than not; am I so very much like Marilyn
Though are we only likened by our spirit and soul
Invisible; pieces of us hidden to the world around us
Upon our weary hearts; each scar and every broken toll
In her words" I'm just a girl who wishes for the world"
Though in which worldly wishes; never quite sure
Our faces hidden behind makeup and pretty forced smiles
Full within our broken hearts;
a love so very pure
Scribbles; our words inked on page after page exist
Thoughts and blood spilled upon paper never to be shared
Lost in books and poetry; places melancholy minds go
Escaping from our wishes to hope someone simply cared
Though are we only likened by our spirit and soul
Invisible; pieces of us hidden to the world around us
Upon our weary hearts; each scar and every broken toll
In her words" I'm just a girl who wishes for the world"
Though in which worldly wishes; never quite sure
Our faces hidden behind makeup and pretty forced smiles
Full within our broken hearts;
a love so very pure
Scribbles; our words inked on page after page exist
Thoughts and blood spilled upon paper never to be shared
Lost in books and poetry; places melancholy minds go
Escaping from our wishes to hope someone simply cared
Published 23rd Sep 2018
Author's Note
I'm really not in a horrible place; just reflecting on why I resonate with one of favorite icons
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23rd Sep 2018 2:01am
23rd Sep 2018 2:58am
Anonymous
- Edited 23rd Sep 2018 2:12am
23rd Sep 2018 2:11am
"Scribbles; our words inked on page after page exist
Thoughts and blood spilled upon paper never to be shared
Lost in books and poetry; places melancholy minds go
Escaping from our wishes to hope someone simply cared."
The beauty and the heart of your whole poem lies here, in these final verses. Our words, scribbled at times distracted, on pieces of paper or a notebook or on our phones, are like pieces of heart and soul that hide our most deepest emotions, hoping someone, a lost soul, reading them could relate and feel us more than our society and our families do. You have opened another chapter of the book of truth, my dear friend. Hugs and love J.
Thoughts and blood spilled upon paper never to be shared
Lost in books and poetry; places melancholy minds go
Escaping from our wishes to hope someone simply cared."
The beauty and the heart of your whole poem lies here, in these final verses. Our words, scribbled at times distracted, on pieces of paper or a notebook or on our phones, are like pieces of heart and soul that hide our most deepest emotions, hoping someone, a lost soul, reading them could relate and feel us more than our society and our families do. You have opened another chapter of the book of truth, my dear friend. Hugs and love J.
23rd Sep 2018 3:13am
Thank you! So much of her can I resonate with. Her passions were mostly unknown, the girl with nearly 500 books and wrote like crazy, most were penned anywhere and on anything when a thought struck her. Plus a genius, who really reads Ulysses in it's entirety, much less twice?! Can you imagine if we added up every user's scribbles and scattered thoughts? Wow, I know I have many. Let's all face it as well, writing is not just one's passion but an escape. Thank you once more for your very welcome insight. Hugs!
