Through the door. (Where they come from)

[Woo]

As a constant theme in my usual poem thread on the old forum, I would explain that I don't really know where the poems come from. Here is my explenation.

And so, each day, I sit before
This huge, looming wooden door.
And await the day, when,
With a voice like thunder
These planks and bolts will rip asunder.
And, from this door, like summer rain,
Will fall all the emotions, anger and pain
Love and lust and hatred and fear
That I have locked up, kept hidden here.

And in this torrent I shall stay
And deal with it now that I have found a way.
I will write it down, with paper and ink.
And you shall sit, and read, and think,
“Where do these come from? Such thoughts, such things.”
Should young girls dream of bracelets and rings,
Not barbed wire or raging sea or clapping thunder.
But this is me.

I have learnt by now, you cannot hide
From all of those things that you lock up inside.
You will have to face them, deal with them, show
That you can defeat them. That you can grow.
and one day learn, to love again, that oldest and wisest of your friends.
The only one who really knew,
What it was like. Just to be you.

I know there is an odd line that doesn't rhyme, but I kept it in anyway.

[Hellboy]

Holy shit Woo that poem is amazing it felt like it pierced my heart

[Gray Fox]

Holy shit Woo that poem is amazing it felt like it pierced my heart

Not exactly what it was meant to do O_o, but it is a good poem.

Inverted form, delicious.

[Woo]

thank you very much.

[Hellboy]

Your very welcome

[WeirdlyHero]

Simply amazing as per usual.             

[LavenderFairy]

Wow I could literally picture the emotions whirling about represented by different colors and surrounding you, then they all go into the pen you are holding, and when you write, the colors form a picture in your notebook.

Cooooll * w *

[Relym]

I wrote a poem kind of like this but it wasn't nearly as good. I love your poems.