What My Poems are Made ofMy poems are made of love, above the sky. Where in the heavens, angels lye. Right by the gates, where you go when you die.
My poems are made of that little flame inside. The flame that forever grows. You try to put it out, but it grows even more. You can't put out fire with kerosene. It will just make it worse.
My poems are made of the cries that echoes on the inside. The kind that are silent to others, but loud to yourself. Like church bells ringing on sunday morning when no one is there to hear them ring, but you and you only.
My poems are made of sad sorrow. The sorrow that makes you think there is no tomorrow. Saying, "I don't have a tomorrow, can I borrow yours?"
My poems are made of healing. Stitching you heart back together. Trying to remember the good times. Poetry heals everything. No doctor can heal a broken heart. Only words and words only.
My poems are made of most importantly, feeling human. What all your soul has to offer. The feelings of feelings. Without that, we would all be dead...
Poetry by Salvador Chavez
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Written on 2006-12-11 at 21:51
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