Deciphering the thoughts of a broken Scribe

Written by Elysian Huyz

It always sounds so beautiful

in my head at first

until it shatters into air size

atomic particles and fall

unto a blank sheet of

photoelectric paper as a

scrambled puzzle.

Some words get lost in thought

others lose essence, stutter

and fail to glow in the dark.

It usually starts as a spark,

an ignited tingling in my heart.

A word, a line that lingers and

meanders into a sea of parables that

even I sometimes do not understand,

other times as a rhythm, a rhyme

that sings into a lonely child’s lullaby

reminding him that the stars on his

ceiling are fake.

A flood of fluid emotions that drowns

clowns in a tea cup filled with air,

stripping him of the candle that makes

his smile funny to strangers that need it.



It eludes me like the feelings I

try to catch up with but stumble upon,

falling on inverted letters, words,

riddles that am supposed to make

meaning of but fail, to catch the

butterflies that float in tiny spaces in

my head, fail to dance with the dragons

that breathe memories that leave sun

burns on my chest.

It confronts me again

something I’ll ultimately fail to understand, like

How sounds make meaning to the deaf

How night makes difference to the blind.

How am I to explain to you

how feelings are coined, create equations that result

in questions like how babies are formed,

with just words, words that do not magically create like

let there be light or minds ignite.

This is what am enburdened to do;

Make ships fly, help dry bones rise

Make tears into fluids that seep into veins

and leak into brains to tell a troubled mind

that someone out there feels the same way

as you.

ART : Linnea Strid



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