Choreographer

And all we do is
Equivocate to
Mislead and reach
Hiding ourselves for
Surreptitious
Words buried no
Longer incisive when
It matters most and
We gave up trying to
Let vulnerabilities
Free when we began
Letting fortuitous
Events lead us
To relying on
Chance in this
Interminable show of
Concealing truths
Still we are never
Quite quiescent for
All we want is
This paradoxical
Opportunity to
Release what we
Stow away and we
Struggle to reveal by
Pathetic intimations
And a plentitude of
Sly nuances in our
Words that leave us
All in a haze of
Confusion and so
We tolerate the
Vexes of ourselves
Waiting for the
Unknown force to
Choreograph our
Lives because
We are too afraid to
Handle the reigns
And let the unmasked
Words fall

elise.writer

VT

16 years old

More by elise.writer

  • fragile foundation

    every twist of inadequacy's blade

    (each one worse than the previous)

    fell in a rhythmic order, one that your silence

    carried in. did you hate me?

    you'd never say so. so blindly, i never changed.

  • sunday nights

    sunday nights are my own.

    old music in the corners of my mind

    pen scratches on paper, ten thousand poems

    two hundred and seventy-two

    little golden lights, 4 walls

    that mirror my soul.