The World I Call Home (stupid title)

[thecrazybeautiful]

I wrote this one a long time ago, but I really hate the title. I don't know why I've stuck with it for so long.

The World I Call Home

How did I get involved
In this world of mindless writers,
Pouring out heart and soul
Out on to a piece of paper?
Is this the life of the undiscovered,
And those who are patiently waiting?

This is where I belong,
Yet I feel disconnected
To the world I once knew.

Have I come too far to turn back,
Or will I even be able to make that choice on my own?

The pen only knows,
And the keys under my fingers
Are slaves to my every thought.
Still my head churns each day
From the passing of the sun,
To the coming of the stars.

And is it possible to feel whole, living like this?

I can only sit back and watch
As people soak up my dreams,
Foolish words boiling at the tips of their tongues.
And they spit out their life
For everyone to have a share.

[But what if I don't want to share?]

I'm often distracted trying
To make things fit into each other,
As if everything was once connected.
As if we could ever be,
And as if... my dreams aren't already far enough away.

[I wonder if I fell one day
Only to stand to a world of mystery,
And hopeless, hopeless romantics.]

Maybe home is where the heart is,
But what if it's in the mind?

[Laura]

A personal thing I have is I don't actually like when poems end in questions ... I don't know why.

The idea I got from this was being a writer ... is it really for you and have you ventured so far into it that you can't get out? I wrote a poem like that under Life called the Poet. I often wonder too because I don't think I can get out of it and the idea of not sharing, not wanting people to know the thoughts ... it's interesting. I have to go to dinner ... I may come back and revise this.

[Only Me]

... this whole poem seems to be a big question. I like how it ends in a question because its like the poem is asking a question that in the end you still are unable to answer... I really enjoyed it!