Stranger Than Fiction

Too many times I try to talk

Friends listen and seem to balk

They laugh at words that make me cry

Should my tears be running dry?

I need your help I plead, I scream

My friends assemble a simple team

They take my words and pull them out

Tossing them all about

Unimportant rhymes they say

I begin to run away

I can’t find a place to go

No one understands what I don’t know

I look for help at a corner store

A woman begins to implore

She asks me why I’m on the run

I say I’m escaping all that I’ve done

This woman, which I do not know

She sits me down, says do not go

Tell me all your troubles, dear

I want to help you with your fear

Stunned, I start to gasp for air

I shout my problems everywhere

Water falls from my eyes

The woman slowly begins to rise

She holds my hand and takes me in

She tells me it’s time to begin

A journey to repair my heart

Something like a new start

A stranger whose name I never caught

Gave me more than I ever thought

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nightlight1220's picture

That's what happens when you

That's what happens when you are 'in flow' with the universe!!  Don't let go!! Beautiful!

~peace~

........


...and he asked her, "do you write poetry? Because I feel as if I am the ink that flows from your quill."

"No", she replied, "but I have experienced it. "

 

iwonderwho's picture

And won't you be ever

And won't you be ever thankful to that stranger, what luck you found her. 

the friends, they don't understand it. you're the rare one. you're the oyster that contains the precious pearl, and they are the sand you sit upon. 

alive-living's picture

Thank You

Thank you so much. This is an idea I've struggled with for my entire life. That I feel more connected to a passer-by than friends I've known for years. It's terrifyingly beautiful.

nightlight1220's picture

Hey...a good rule of

Hey...a good rule of thumb.."if it ain't broke, don't fix it". There is no such thing as 'textbook case of individuality'. ~peace and good luck always~

...............


...and he asked her, "do you write poetry? Because I feel as if I am the ink that flows from your quill."

"No", she replied, "but I have experienced it. "